Too Far Gone
by ImaginationMisfit
Summary: The list of people Robyn has lost suddenly becomes longer and longer as shit hits the fan. Torn from her family and left alone, she makes her way across Atlanta after a Walker attack, only to have part of her life restored; temporarily.
1. Chapter 1: Gone In A Flash

Shane x OC - Daryl x OC| Walking Dead | Started : June 25th, 2014 |

(Starts around the beginning of season 2 - Between What Lies Ahead and Bloodletting)

**Spoiler**: Shane dies, btw.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything nor have any copyright related to The Walking Dead characters or plot line. The only characters I own are Robyn, the Gareth family and whoever else I may invent along the way. Nor do I own the alternate ending to Shane's death which was actually originally suggest by John Bernthal himself ( /o6QWQNKQxqc )

**Author's note**: You might be confused by the whole shipping I've planned out but trust me on this. You'll like it. Same plot line continues, yada yada yada. Oh, there may be a chapter or two that will centre around the prologue/pre-apocalyptic stuff just to fill you in. It helps to read, but if it bores you, let me know. This isn't your typical "get to the chase" type of WD story. If I'm presenting an OC, I'll present her/him to you in full detail, none of that short story bullshit in the middle. Maybe there will be a flashback here and there or someone asking how so-and-so met, but besides that, this is the full length story. If there's anything you think I should add, don't hesitate to tell me. Enjoy, loves! Xx Ps: I hate stories that are amazing and don't have sequels, so hopefully, if this story is enjoyed, I'll definitely continue it.

Chapter 1:** Gone In A Flash. **

Nine months spent with strangers, breaking down their emotional barriers, becoming familiar with one another, falling asleep without the worry of having your throat slit in the middle of the night; all for nothing -gone in a flash.

Around two weeks ago, my group, the eight of us, was attacked by a herd of the undead. They came from all directions, bustling through the purposely noisy cans we had set along the trees, the pointy objects we spent hours carving to ward them off, and even through the watchman.

No one saw it coming. Only the day before had we done a mile long sweep of the forest floor with none of 'them' in sight. We were all back to back, slashing our swords through necks, pistols through heads and what have you. It was the end for all of us, I could tell, and I wasn't a 'glass half empty' kind of person.

Only three of us made it out alive: me, my boyfriend Tyler and this other girl, Natalya, I shared look-out hours with. We managed to gather our supplies and even a few weapons as we greedily ran for the nearest highway, never taking a moment to look back at the massacre of our family.

We travelled on foot for hours on end, each half hour switching bag duty to another person.

I glanced down to my digital watch and sighed, sticking my hand out to Natalya.

"It's my turn. Hand it over."

The bag itself was heavy alone, and with the added weight of the weapons and supplies, being relieved of the duty was heavenly. It all seemed heavenly until Natalya let out a yelp of pain as strap of the bag grazed her forearm through her sleeve, dropping it to the floor.

Tyler, without hesitation, rushed to her side, drowning her in immediate questions. Soon her eyes were puddled with tears, small droplets spilling onto her already pale cheeks. Her voice began to tremble as she pleaded with us not to touch her.

We demanded she remove her sleeve. God knows what could have happened. Maybe she cut herself midway through the attack on a sharp object. But it wasn't a sharp object because there she revealed to us a gash of four inches spreading from her elbow to mid-

forearm.

I retaliated in shock, eyes wider than the wound. She pleaded and begged for answers but Tyler and I walked off a few feet to assess the situation.

"Sh-she's been bit," he said. "Or scratched. I-I dunno. Either way it wasn't recent. Couldn't have been."

Tyler grabbed me and held me to his chest as I shook almost violently against him. Only, it wasn't me shaking, it was him followed by rack of silent sobs.

I couldn't bare to see him in such a way. The only thing I could do was rub his back and whisper in a soothing voice. Of course he wasn't the one I was supposed to be consoling, more like the girl who's body was unknowingly shutting down.

After the sobs ceased, both Ty and I murmured something at the same time, but he gestured for me to speak first.

I nodded, deciding to assess the situation logically. "We should leave her here. Or end it for her. She hasn't got much time before she turns and attacks and I'm not ready for another one of those." My suggestion might as well have been a stab to his heart because he pulled away from the embrace and smirked in utter disbelief.

"You're kidding, right?" Tyler threw his arms up, making wild gestures with his hands as he spoke furiously. "You can't just... you can't just leave her when she's suffering like that. Not when she's defenseless!"

Had he not remembered what occurred only hours before? What we had done to our closest friends? "So what exactly did we do back there, huh? We left them, Ty! We _left_ our family! We-"

"But did you protest? _No_! I'm not leaving her here. She's just as much family as Melanie was." Without another word, he spun around and took a step closer to Natalya. Right then and there, my heart had shattered into a million different pieces.

Of all people, I had least expected my own boyfriend to make the decision of staying with someone he barely knew. Least of all with someone who would be dead within the hour. In the air hung an uncomfortable silence, one of which was soon disturbed. Natalya hadn't spoken a word since finding out about her condition, all she did was make barely audible sniffles and even that made me want to slap her.

Nonchalantly, he spoke. "Give me a gun, Robbie."

"Excuse me? Tyler, why do you need a gun? C'mo-"

"For fuck's sake, Robyn. Give me a god damn gun." Tyler's voice rose two octaves louder than it needed to be. Thrusting his hand out, he impatiently awaited me to obey and hand him a weapon.

Somehow, I did. Something had taken over me as I slammed the weapons bag onto the hood of a nearby car and dug about the spacey bag. All we had left were four cartridges of bullets, one of which belonged to a rifle we no longer had and half of one that belonged to my gun, two shot guns, my pistol and a mossberg 590.

In exchange for the gun and seven extra bullets, Tyler emptied his and Natalya's supplies into mine, making my cargo a little heavier. He had made up his mind and there was no budging. It was settled; he was staying.

Far away in the distance I could see a few heads bobbing up and down, but none that looked like those of survivors. Their breaths seemed laboured and their feet shuffled heavier than anyone else's. Of course, Walkers. Neither of the pair would be able to defend each other with one gun, but before I could speak, I heard nearby shuffling and turned to quickly inspect with my gun aimed ahead.

They had escaped into a truck and crouched to the floor, slamming the door a little too loudly for their safety. That was it. Just like that, my boyfriend betrayed me and snook off to safety without so much as a goodbye.

Nine months spent with strangers, breaking down their emotional barriers, becoming familiar with one another, falling asleep without the worry of having your throat slit in the middle of the night; all for nothing - gone in a flash.

**AN**: Hiya! I'm sorry this is kinda short and sucky but I had to start somewhere. I'm writing the next chapter as we speak while listening to Vol. 1 of TWD soundtrack to get me in the mood, and hopefully it works. Tell me what you think of this chapter and what I should add. Thanks, guys. Xx


	2. Chapter 2: Only Road I've Ever Known

Chapter 2: **On The Only Road I've Ever Known.**

Nightfall came almost immediately. Having narrowly escaped the half a dozen Walkers back on the highway, my sense of direction was completely lost. I had been wandering around aimlessly through back streets and roads, somehow ending up on a dangerous forest trail.

What worried me most was, of course, the Walkers but mainly not being able to find somewhere to hole up. Exhaustion was creeping up on me quickly and God knows what would happen if I allowed it to knock me out. If I so much we crawled up under a car for safety I'm sure as hell I'd move around in my sleep and before I know it, whoops! I'm missing an arm, half my face and six toes.

Luckily for me, I managed to pass two leg-walkers grinding up against the gravel angrily chomping their teeth at the sight of fresh meat. Me. God I hated those things. But I also felt sorry for them. They were once people and now all they were to us were cannibalistic threats. They moved a little faster than expected which only made me want to move faster and faster until I heard a rustling in the tree line to my left.

"Shit. Not now. I'm not ready, you bastards."

I needed a place to go, and quick. Up ahead was a small clearing with a mail box that read "Green". Good God, I hope the family didn't die there. I had close to no ammo in my pistol and was in no mood to waste it on a rotting family. For my sake and theirs, I kept my gun in it's holster, index finger placed precariously over the trigger. Off of the road I've ever known these past months and onto the trail left me grateful for being out of sight.

As I ran along the dirt road, heavy bags slamming against my backside, my heart suddenly dropped at the sight of two Walkers, a man in a torn apart suit and a woman in a dressing gown, shuffling rather quickly behind me. How had they managed to gain up to me so fast? Or were they just new Walkers I hadn't payed attention to? Right now, it didn't matter. The space in front of me was wide open and surrounded by trees, so if I shot I'd be bombarded by the undead. The only logical solution was to bash their skulls in.

Without thinking, I picked up a jagged rock and threw it at the farthest Walker, quickly back-ending the nearest Walker with the butt of my gun with one hand gripping their shoulder firmly. Fresh blood splattered my face and shirt leaving me gagging at the stench as the first "man" fell to his feet. The woman was next, barreling towards me at full speed. I had completely forgotten about my "_waste no bullet_" rule and aligned my gun to her face and pulled the trigger.

_Nothing_. There were no more bullets. I furiously pulled at the trigger until my finger was numb and the clashing teeth came ever so close to gnawing at my face. My footing was lost almost immediately making contact, sending us both down to the grown and knocking my head onto the hard floor. I could feel hot liquid streaming from just above my ear as I fought to keep the Walker off of me, but to no avail, she wouldn't budge.

My last option was to scream. Screaming for help would do me no good but ring the dinner bell but what was a struggling woman to do at a time like this? Give up and allow myself to be eaten like a Sunday roast? Fuck that.

I couldn't bring my knee up to push the woman off; I was damn sure this was the end. There were so many different ways to die before this. Car crash, being fatally stabbed, diseases, old age. Not being bitten to shreds. This wasn't how I wanted to die, not just yet, and I'd be damned if I slipped tonight. Unfortunately, it seemed as though there was no other way out. Walkers all weighed the same weight they looked, but this one, as skinny as a twig, weighed much more than expected. She was a heffer.

Her weight was crushing me and my gun seemed too far away for me to grab to be able to knock her skull in. "You ugly son of a bitch. Get the fuck off of m-"

The weight of the undead seemed heavier as a whip through the air caused her body to go limp against mine. Her teeth ceased their snapping as she was soon pulled off of me. But.. how? I hadn't done anything.

Seconds later I heard the sound of boots scraping the ground at lightning speed, the crunch of rocks getting closer and closer. A light shone through the darkness and directly at my face. "What the hell?" I asked as I shielded my eyes from the flashlight.

"Were you bit?" A southern voice asked, much similar to my own. It seemed as though it belonged to a feisty female who could use some work on the compassionate greetings. "Were. You. _Bit_?"

"No, I wasn't bit. A simple, _'are you alright_?' would've done just fine, thanks," Neither of our tones were friendly, but my 'saviour' turned the flashlight off with a sigh, removed her weapon from the Walker's head and held out her hand.

"The name's Maggie. Sorry for the, uh, harsh hello. It's just a precaution,"

"It's understandable," I said, taking her hand and hoisting myself up. "Thank you for the rescue, though. I, uh- fuck." My hand flew to the back of my head as a shot of pain rippled through my skull, scrunching my nose up in the process.

In the dim moonlight, my hand revealed to have been covered in fresh new blood, supposedly from my newfound wound. "Lovely. Just what I-I need," I stammered, rubbing the same hand on my forehead.

"Oh, gosh. We should get you back to the house. My dad will have a look at it and patch you up, I'm sure. Can you walk?" I answered that by bending down to pick up my bags and falling to the ground with a thud. "Hang on," she said confidently "I'll call for someone to take us back."

I sat up and shifted in my spot as my vision went in and out. My hand was gripping the gravel behind me, fighting to stay conscious. Maggie had shimmied my bags onto her shoulders and reached into her pocket for a small walkie-talkie, speaking in all sorts of codes I couldn't understand. This hurt like hell, but I couldn't be looked upon as weak by whoever she was calling. Odin, it was. Or some other name. My hearing was all sorts of messed up and just as headlights came into view I could feel my consciousness slipping.

There it was. Maybe I was dying. Maybe the Walker scratched me and the effect was happening already. How could it happen so quick? No matter, this was my end and as I hit the floor, a pair of brown eyes flashed before me, soon to be engulfed in complete darkness.

**AN**: Just a quick note, I've somewhat based my story off of two of my favourite stories so far, _Accident or Grand Design_ by ChooseJoy and _Lil' Bird: The Beginnin_g by LittleRin26. Robyn is a mix between Leah and Birdie so I'm hoping that, if you've read either fanfic, you like the outcome.

But yeah, how'd you like it? Is it going somewhere? I dunno, but just telling me is great so I can improve and all that good stuff. Xx


	3. Chapter 3: Temporary Home

**AN**: Salutations, people of the internet. Before I start, I just wanna say I'm kinda obsessed with making transparents and I've been making so many for the story already. Ugh. I need to go to an AA type meeting but for people who are obsessed with picture editing.

Chapter 3:** Temporary Home. **

_The scene beyond the window played out like a fairy tale; glittery lights dawning the fence around a wide open field engulfed a group of people chanting along to an old folks tale. _

_It was wondrous, I'll admit. _

_My gaze fell to my feet; a long sheer dress piled around me on the floor and continued up all the way to my collarbone. The edges of the fabric had a lace design that intricately continued around the hems of my sleeves and base of the dress. The white cloth seemed to fit me perfectly and gosh, did it feel good to look presentable again. _

_Long blades of grass began to sway in the grass, large gusts of wind and the whistling of the foliage urging my forwards to the group and into a chant. We skipped and spun in circles, admiring the sky and all it's clear glory until up ahead a large, thunderous cloud appeared. Within seconds, it seemed as though the noise drew Walkers to our exact location. The boom and shudder of the thunder took no time in growing octaves louder in order to draw the attention of the Walkers, stalking about the grass and towards us. _

_The once happy-looking group was now being ambushed, pushing up against one another until the pushing became too much. Once again, I found myself on my ass, pulling on anything to help me up to a standing position and in defence mode. _

_No one took note of the body on the floor, desperately asking for help. Pleading, actually. It was as if I was stuck to the ground and it was impossible to be heard, yet the air was silent, save the gnarling Walkers. _

_"Robyn!" My name. Someone was calling my name! I shifted my head in all different directions until I saw a familiar looking face not too far off in the distance, crouched between the tree line and the field, gun in hand. The hat this man wore sat idly on his head, tucking away any loose hairs and hiding any other facial features I could deem recognizable. His bulky build set off an alarm in my head, and all of a sudden I felt the urge to jump up and run towards him, heart beating wildly. _

_How was it I couldn't budge? Let alone speak? No matter how hard I tried, no matter how surreal this felt, I couldn't muster up enough energy to move. The person was calling me and I needed to get to him. _

_"Robyn! Robyn, open your eyes. Robyn!" The name now came pounding in all directions; left, right, centre. It was an endless symphony of my name in a deep, husky voice and I knew who's it was. But, now, I couldn't put a voice to a face. Everything was focusing in and out of my vision quicker than I could think. I wanted to shout out, get the fading to stop. I needed to run away from my death and to the tree line. But every force was keeping me down. _

_"Robyn! Robyn! Robyn!" Beyond my view, the Walkers began plummeting to the floor one by one the sound of bullet shots ringing through the air and terrorized screams filling whatever void that noise didn't. Seconds later, the scene was quiet and a man stood above me with a dirty shirt and cap still covering his eyes. More people arrived, all with hats covering their features._

_The first man bent down next to me and nudged my shoulder once. Twice. Three times. He repeatedly nudged me until it turned to shaking just as the entire group came together, saying my name in a chorus. _

_"I missed you, Lil' Bird. It's time to wake up now." Lil' Bird? Who calls me Lil' Bir-? Oh no. _

_Everyone's faces started to fade to black, or maybe it was just my vision, but everything was quickly disappearing before me quicker than it had arrived. I fought to keep my eyes open just a little longer but with no luck, I collapsed back to the ground, head spinning. Robyn. Robyn. Robyn._

"Robyn... She's awake, I know it. C'mon, girl, you're just having a bad dream." Nudging and shaking and nudging and shaking, Maggie tried in earnest to wake me from my stupor and apparently had been for the past twenty minutes.

I jolted from my sleep and shot up from my position on the bed, sitting upright a little too fast. "Christ, what the hell happened? How do you know my nam- where the hell am I?" There was no field, no Walkers, no... mystery group. Just a room. My surroundings were different compared to what they had been ten minutes ago. I was placed in a quaint room with blue and orange checkered sheets over my waist, lace curtains shielding the morning sun and my bags and clothes stacked neatly on a table.

"You lost consciousness just as Otis came to pick us up," Ah, Otis. That's the name. "And you're at my family's farm. You've been knocked out for over twenty-four hours and once I heard you bustlin' about, I got worried and tried to wake you up." It was nice of her to worry, I guess. I wasn't expecting that after what happened last night.

Maggie went on to explain how her father, Hershel, had stitched me up after I managed to give myself a gnarly cut on the back of my neck and around my ear. She also took note of my perplexed look at the neat pile of clothes on the table, apologizing for giving me so much information at once.

"We took the liberty of cleaning your clothes. Mostly because they smelt god awful and, out of precaution, we had to search your bag. We didn't take anything. All I saw was a photo of someone named Tyler and Robyn, and assumed you must've been Robyn."

Out of precaution. Right. They thought I was coming in to murder them or had some bomb set up in my bag. The latter wasn't true, though the former was before I knew they were actual people and not a bunch of flesh eating humans. I nodded gingerly, heart beating a little faster at the mention of Tyler's name while my fingers ghost over the bumpy scars and other minor scratches I had acquired since last night. Wait, sorry, twenty-four plus hours ago.

"Yeah. Uh, yeah, that's fine. Thank you." No matter if we got off on the wrong foot, I was grateful to Maggie and her family for taking me in instead of being left as Walker bait. That was possibly the nicest thing anyone has done to me in what seems like a while.

She got up and pointed me in the direction of the bathroom, saying that I was more than welcome to wash up and join the others for breakfast. Others. There were more people. Another group. The thought of company made me smile and for a second I was happy until I realized I knew no one except Maggie. _My_ group was gone, Tyler was gone and here I was, all alone again worrying about who would try to 'off' me in my sleep.

What I was worried about the most was not the amount of people I had yet to meet, but how many would try to break the walls down. Y'know, those mental and emotional walls you set up. The ones you built so as not to hurt yourself again but were always broken by someone at one point or another because you were tricked into believing you could trust them.

My mind wandered off to other things, making myself believe that if I thought of other topics, this one would soon be forgotten. But as I locked myself in the bathroom, I sure as hell didn't want to come out. I wanted to stay in there with my morbid and depressing thoughts.

It took quite the bit of courage to finally realize I was being rude to my hosts. They should at least know who is staying with them instead of having her hiding in the bathroom possibly plotting to kill them all and steal their supplies. Though I'd never do that, I wouldn't be surprised if they did, in fact, think that for a split second.

I traipsed down the stairs and took in the sight before me; the house had a country-ranch style to it. Beautifully matured hardwood floors, antique furniture I'm sure had been passed down from generation to generation and the same curtains throughout the house. It was easy to get lost in a house like this, but luckily I managed to wander into the living room which opened out into the dining room. An older looking man, Hershel I suppose, with the whitest and tidiest of hair sat on the arm of the living room couch assessing the morning paper. Next to him was a younger looking girl, in her late teens, speaking animatedly and pointing at a picture of a long-legged woman. It must've been from a while ago, seeing as I'm sure they don't produce newspapers anymore.

A little further along into the dining room I spotted Maggie and another man who I was certain could be Otis. Or maybe he was Hershel. From the corner of her eye, she saw me move and got up immediately, a wide smiled plastered to her face.

"Robyn!" She was a little too peppy this early in the morning for my liking. Never being the morning person myself, I forced a small smile as everyone in the room turned to look at me.

The man by the couch was the first to speak and welcome me to the temporary home. "You had quite the fall there, miss. Four stitches but the gash wasn't _very_ deep." As polite he could be, he placed his hand outstretched between the two of us, indicating I should shake it. "My name is Hershel Green."

"I'm Beth," the younger girl spoke up. She stepped from behind Hershel and waved, her blonde hair glistening in the sun that shone from the large window.

Hershel chuckled and pulled Beth into his side. "These are my daughters, Beth and Maggie. I see you've already met her and Otis," he pointed to the man standing by the dinner table, offering a small smile. "Patricia and Otis should be in momentarily."

"Yeah. It's nice to meet y'all. How can I ever repay you for all the trouble I've put ya through?" My question was waved off by Hershel, gesturing to the table of food.

"For now, it's fine. We'll get you back on your feet and I'm sure you'll be on your way."

Ah, I was right. I knew I would never join or be accepted into the group. I was only a passerby and this was my fate. To wander until I could find lone survivors as driven and furious as I am.

Just then, the front door opened and in came a woman no older than 45 and a teenage boy around Beth's age, each holding a woven sack with feathers sticking out every which way. "Speaking of the devil. Patricia, Jimmy, this is Robyn; the guest who's been upstairs."

From Jimmy I received a tip of the cowboy hat and from Patricia and polite nod and squeaky hello. They both sat down on either side of Beth and dug into the steaming food placed on the table before silently saying grace individually.

The table remained quiet the majority of the time except for the occasional slurp of juice or scraping of plates, and to be honest, for once I didn't enjoy the silence. Hershel got the message the second we made eye contact. Almost immediately the table was in full swing, chattering away.

Beth was idly playing with Jimmy's fingers before she decided to question me. I'm sure she was excited that someone new was here and couldn't help herself. "Where were you before all of this, Robyn? Like, where'd you come from, what happened after, how did you survi-"

"_Beth_, she just woke up. Give her some time," Maggie whispered, giving her sister a kick under the table.

"It's fine," I said with a reassuring tone and wide smile. If I was going to be here, they may as well know who they're dealing with. "I grew up in King County, forty minutes from Atlanta. I was in Valdosta at the time when all of this hit. My first thought was to take my boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, with all our supplies and head up to Macon. That's where my sister lived. We were headed on a long, and impossible, journey to King County. My entire life was there, y'know, and I'd be damned if I couldn't save anyone. Of course, my parents were there, but there were also other people I- Nevermind. Needless to say I never got to say goodbye to them. Anyways, on the way to King County we were ambushed in Forsyth and almost didn't make it. It was.. the rest is history after that. I was with a group and they all.. they all died in the end."

I hadn't realized I was stabbing at my eggs the entire time I spoke. Everyone stayed quiet as though not to disturb the awful silence.

Instead of pitying me, like I knew they would, Maggie placed her hand atop my arm and squeezed it gently, getting a smile in return. "Well you're here now."

The rest of the table went back to eating. Beth was the first one down from the table, clearing up the dishes and immediately washing them up. I couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment from the look on her face. She looked too upset to be left alone.

"Hey, Beth, can I talk to you?" I inquired. Plates were stacked up precariously atop one another on the counter beside her almost daring to topple over.

"I-I'm sorry. You didn't have to- you never said goodbye. You lost everyone you love and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to have you bring it up." Beth wiped at her nose with the edge of her sleeve before continuing with the dishes, refusing to break contact with the silverware.

I thought she was upset with my answer. Maybe she was expecting some big story about how I stayed holed up inside my apartment until zombies busted the doors down and forced me out of hiding. And maybe she expected me to be a sword-wielding zombie hunter.

"It's not your fault. I figured if I'm going to be here a while, you might as well get to know me." Silence filled the awkward gap when she didn't respond. I folded my arms, spun around and leaned on the edge of the kitchen counter beside Beth. "Y'know, I really like it here. And you guys, you guys seem pretty alright."

A minute, sarcastic scoff emitted from her tiny body, shaking her head as she cleared up the last of the cutlery. "_Pretty alright_? Well, I like you, too. Maggie and everyone else does as well, so I kinda hope you stay a lil' while longer."

"Tell that to your dad." I laughed, patting her on the shoulder and making my way out to join everyone on the porch.

**AN**: Holy shitnuggets. That took a little longer to write than expect but hey ho, I did it. You don't understand how many times I had to rewrite 'Lil' Bird' because stupid auto correct kept changing it to 'Lol Bird'. No, autocorrect, this bird is not funny just yet.

Any who, I hope it's not too long but leave a review and tell me what you think. Xx


	4. Chapter 4: Faceless Faces

**AN**: If this makes it any easier, think of the first part of this chapter the day they lost Sophia. Hope you like it (ps: sorry the last part is so short.)

Chapter 4: Faceless Faces

The rest of the day was spent tending to my stitches and crops Hershel had growing out front. Having refused kitchen duty, claiming I could handle myself out in the fields, I was put on picking duty with Otis and Jimmy where we were in charge of harvesting any fruits or veggies, and discarding of the rotten ones. It amazed me how the majority of the crops weren't rotten, and how the soil, despite the apocalypse, managed to thrive.

Once every few hours Patricia would disappear from her designated work area to the shed and around to the back of a rather abandoned looking barn to deposit her wheel barrow and return looking rather flustered.

I was curious as to what was so interesting in there, but I knew better than to ask on my first day. It was only a matter of time before I would have to leave in any case and just a little bit of extra knowledge wouldn't make a difference.

The sweltering Georgia heat had taken a toll on everyone, but mostly poor Otis. Man, was he sweating buckets. His t-shirt clung to his back and puddles the size of dinner plates pooled around his armpits, I swore I saw them get just as big as they were twenty minutes ago. Even at quarter past six in the evening, the sun was in no mood to give up, and just before it did it burnt off it's last bit of energy it had for the day which only made us weaker.

"Tomorrow, I'm goin' out and finding ourselves a big, juicy hunk of meat for supper. It's been so long since we had a big feast." Otis had quite the imagination, using his hands to elaborate the details of the supper he had in mind and plopping a few baby peas into his mouth.

"Otis," Jimmy laughed "We had beef stew four nights ago. That ain't that long."

"Four nights too long, boy." the teen and I burst into a fit of laughter at his passion. Never would I think I'd be crouched around a few strangers discussing how big our last meal was. Besides breakfast this morning, I don't remember the last time I had a full, proper meal. Just thinking about it made my stomach growl.

Otis took that as an indication to finish up and head in. "C'mon, you two. Let's go see what needs finishin' up in the kitchen."

Without hesitation, I stood up and instantly steadied myself against Jimmy. He made a joke about how I needed to take it easy, and how I had only just got into the gist of things today, but I didn't listen and headed into the house. They followed behind me as we gathered our buckets, baskets and wheelbarrow and deposited them inside one of the boarded up water wells.

Maggie, Patricia and Beth were all inside, just setting the table as Otis, Jimmy, myself and Hershel walked in.

"Dad, we're almost out of band-aids," Maggie announced, showing off a slim cut on her ring finger. "I was thinking of doing a run tomorrow. Only for the necessities."

"Alright, honey." Hershel turned to Otis and nodded, patting him on the back. "I'll have Otis drive yo-"

"Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but Otis here is goin' to fetch us a buck for dinner tomorrow afternoon. Ain't that right, Ot?" The teenager sat on the hinds of the chair's legs, rocking back and forth as he explained Otis' plan. At that moment, Patricia cleared her throat rather loudly, causing Jimmy to sit properly and face the table.

"Uh, yeah, but if you need me to keep Mags company I don't mind."

"It's not my place to keep you from providing such a meal, so by all means, tomorrow afternoon is all yours."

For a split second I thought of Maggie out on her own and being cornered by a group of Walkers. I wasn't sure of how skilled she was in defending herself, but the other night proved her abilities after she took out the woman on top of me. Incase anything bad happened, I wanted to be there to protect her. A little back up wouldn't hurt anyone, plus I really needed a change of scenery.

"I can go," I offered, "I'm a good shot, and I can bring up the rear for her."

"You're still on house rest, Robyn. After being in a twenty-four hour coma and out in the sun all day, it's best if you stay behind." The old man's expression was soft, reaching across the table to pat my hand. "For the time being, you're one of us, so I feel partially responsible for anything that happens to you just as much as I would for Maggie and Beth."

So, in short, that was a no. I understood where he was coming from and smiled a smile of defeat. "If that's what you think is best."

This meal wasn't as nearly quiet as the last. We all spoke of our jobs, what we found and all the small disasters. For example, Jimmy piped up about Otis' pants being too small for him and riding a little low every time he bent down to pick up his bucket.

Mouth half full of mashed potatoes, Otis shook his head and denied that statement. He swallowed the food and shook his fork in denial. "I've had these pants for a _year_! They still fit... kinda." He placed his fork on his plate and checked the button of his corduroys, gaining a chuckle from the rest of us.

At the end of supper, we all thanked the girls and cleared up the plates. I stuck back after speaking to Otis to ask Hershel a question because I sure as hell couldn't stay around here and do nothing.

"Hey, Hershel, I was wondering if I could ask you something. Tomorrow, could I join Otis on the hunt? It won't be strenuous on me at all and I've already spoken to him about it." When I got nervous, I'd rub my ring on my index finger with my thumb, much like I'm doing now.

Hershel seemed to catch on because he held my hands in both of his and nodded, offering a slightly crooked smile. "Of course, as long as you come back when you need to. And please, try to keep the running to a minimum. You lost a lot of blood and we don't need you passing out again. If you do, I'll have no choice but to make you stay in bed."

"Thank you, Hershel. I swear I'll bring Otis and the buck back in one piece."

Later that night, I joined Maggie out on the porch and sat on the railing over looking the field. I couldn't help but relive my dream for just a millisecond. It wasn't until Maggie nearly pushed me off the railing did I realize she was calling my name.

"Oh, gosh, sorry. What's up?" I asked, eyebrows raised and arms crossed.

"You alright? You seem _kinda_ out of it," she said, bringing her knees to her chest.

I nodded in reassurance and positioned myself so my back was against the pillar and one leg folded on the side of the railing. "I'm just... nothing. Hershel gave me some painkillers for the headache and it seems to have pushed the pain everywhere else. On top of that, I feel kind of dizzy every time I get excited."

Maggie chuckled and furrowed her brows. "What's so exciting about the farm? Let alone the apocalypse, weirdo."

"I'm just saying," I said, turning my head to inspect the tree line from my dreams. "I don't get excited easily, and the little things set me off. Like, I had a dream and-"

"Take these," Within a split second, Maggie produced a small container from her back pockets and handed it to me. "Sedatives. Help you sleep easy."

"Will they knock me out?"

"All I can say is take them a few minutes before you hit the sack. But _only_ one. Don't want you going into a sleep induced coma." The latter comment made me chuckle, lightning the mood of what gloom my dream would've brought if I told her. I threw the container between my hands, listening to the pills hit the sides each time and thanked her.

"Do you think there are others out there?" I asked, genuinely concerned. "I mean, I know there are others some way away, but are there others for me?"

Maggie and I had developed a short and sweet friendship, and it felt like now was the only time to really open up to her. I had decided earlier that I would only be here another few short days before I left, so my boundaries and emotional walls were irrelevant towards them.

"Honestly? Yes. There's a lil' group for everyone. Me, my dad, my sister, Jimmy, Otis and Patricia, we have one and it's stable at that." She stood up and wandered over to the railing and sat down opposite me, gazing out over the field as well. "If my father trusted everyone he stitched up, I'd suggest you stay with us."

"But I'm just one extra mouth to feed and one extra person to take care of. I get it, it's fine."

There was a moment of silence, one long enough you could reflect on the past few hours, before Maggie sighed.

"I'm sure you'll come across people you know. If not now, maybe some time down the line."

She was right. I could only think of a handful of people I wanted back. Melanie. My parents. Tyler. Kristen. Gerry. Phoenix. The boys... It was only a matter of time before I, too, met my destiny. But until then, I was determined to continue on until I had achieved enough in this new era. One to hopefully reincarnate me into a doctor to cure this damn epidemic.

I refused to tear up as I imagined a reunion with each loved one I had lost. Instead, I bid Maggie a good night and headed up to bed, waving to each house member as I walked by.

Once in my room, I stripped down and into my PJs consisting of a King County's PeeWee baseball shirt, the team my brother used to coach, and a pair of flannel pants. The pill lay in my hand, rolling between my fingers with ease. I bent down into my bag and pulled out my water bottle, only briefly scraping my hand over my pistol. I chucked the pill to the back of my throat and downed it with water; easy.

To busy myself before sleep, I rummaged through my sack once more, pulling out a copy of Great Expectations and turning to a random page. I could never understand what Dickens was talking about, and it was a great way to get my mind off of the faceless faces and other people I would never see again. I was desperate to know who it was. Who _they_ were. I could make out four people but the rest were all blurry. It was even possible I knew these people or had seen them around. Before long, I could feel the sedative kicking in so I closed my eyes, book resting on my chest, and fell asleep.

_My dream had seemed to engulf me in a never ending sleep. The faceless group returned, only this time all coming closer to me. The man with the gun identical to mine was in front, stalking towards me at full speed, knocking into my side and bringing me flat up against the side of a wall. He brought the barrel of his gun flush in front of my face and dug it into my cheek as hard as he could, threatening to shoot. From the corner of my eye I saw his finger flex against the trigger but before he could do anything, I opened my eyes and found myself back in my room. _

The light was dim and the sun cast ginormous shadows along the furniture and across the walls. Was it sunrise already? Before I could check my watch, I flinched at the sound of a large thud and a glass crashing against a hard surface. Hushed voices came from downstairs followed by a few sniffles and an angry sounding woman.

"_Shit_," I muttered, nudging the now crumpled book into my bag and grabbing any clean clothes I could find. I pulled my hair up into a loose ponytail, jogged down the hallway and practically flung myself down the stairs eagerly. It was my one chance to get up and around and I'd be damned if I missed it. "Hey, Hershel?"

The murmuring had stopped as I made my way around the house looking for the host. Before I could call his name, he announced "In the dining room. We have guests so keep it down just a little bit."

_Guests_? Who would be here this early in the morning? It was until I checked my watch that it was not, in fact, morning, but rather very late afternoon. Those sedatives really worked their magic. They worked so well that I hadn't heard the alarm I set for myself early yesterday morning. Otis must've already gone and come back with the buck and I've missed my chance.

As depleted as I looked and felt, wanting to return to my room, I rounded into the hallway and began switching the alarm clock on my watch. "What guests?" I asked, finally figuring out the buttons and switches.

I looked up from the screen to see two familiar faces and felt my eyes welling with tears. And suddenly I've filled out the faceless faces from my dreams.


	5. Chapter 5: All Too Much

**AN**: Heyo, guys! Thanks for reading the last four chapters and for the two reviews I got. I really appreciate it! I promise this is it. The next chapter, which I'll be writing soon, will be where it gets interesting. I needed to get in Pre-Farm, present Farm and the reunion for you to get an idea of what's happening. Funny how Robyn zones out or leaves during the 'important' conversations between Rick and Lori... ;) Sorry! Too much. Go read!

Chapter 5: **All** **Too Much**

The sight before me truly took my breath away. One moment, I was utterly convinced I was set to be alone on this earth for the remainder of my time and the next, I'm standing opposite two long time friends.

It was an emotional reunion. Lori and I, being the most sentimental, embraced for a little while longer than expected and soaked up each other's t-shirt sleeve. She held my face in her hands and inspected each and every single cut and bruise before commenting on my complexion.

However the embrace I got from Rick was enough to make me sob uncontrollably. We wasted no time in grabbing each other and pulling ourselves in. They were alive, and I was forever grateful to whoever brought them back.

"I-I heard what happened. Lori called me and s-said you'd been shot. I ain't lyin' when I say I nearly had a heart attack. Rick, I thought you were _gone_."

"Everyone did, Roby. But I made it back," Rick said, rubbing his calloused fingers along my arms. "And I ain't leavin' any time soon."

Hershel interrupted the beautiful scene by clearing his throat, leaning on the back of the dining room chair. "I'm assumin' you guys know each other." He chuckled, noticing our wide grins.

"We do," I said cheerily. "Rick and I go way back. Way before all this _scruff_ came in." This time it was my turn to chuckle as I patted the stubble he had growing on his cheeks.

Rick shook his head and nudged my shoulder. "Hey, now, I was growing it out at the time. I hope Carl doesn't go through what I- Carl.."

At the mention of their son, I spun around to Lori and noticed the gloom look on her face.

"Is he here? Can I see him?" I demanded, a questioning look on my face. It was a blessing to have been there throughout the pregnancy for Lori, but an even bigger one when I was asked to be his godmother. The sight of the little boy, oh gosh. All wrapped up in his white, cotton blankets and a head of hair almost as dark as his daddy's. His godfather and I, Shane, were both there at the same time, practically fighting over who got to hold him first. Shane. I hadn't seen him since before the outbreak, and I wonder if Rick knew where he was...

"He's been shot," Hershel explained, receiving a gasp in response from me. "By Otis. This afternoon, when he went out lookin' for the buck and he shot it."

"The bullet went clean through and managed to get Carl.." Rick, as pale as a ghost, sat down and fiddled with the glass I had assumed I heard crash a little earlier.

"Split right through the skin - into six fragments. Otis and one of Rick's men went out to the high school to retrieve some necessary supplies if I want to operate." So, Rick, Lori and Carl weren't the only ones?

Lori sighed loudly and stepped in beside me and Hershel. "We haven't discussed th-"

"I hit my head the first night I was here and he managed to stitch me up. It'll be fine, Lori."

"But he's a vet, Robyn. Not a veteran, a veterinarian! Someone who works with animals. My son is _not_ an animal!"

As her tone got louder, Rick rose from his seat and stumbled towards Lori, bringing her off I to the direction of the spare room by the front door.

When I was certain they were out of sight, I turned to Hershel, brows furrowed. "When will they be getting back? You have to do something, because I know you don't know Rick and Lori what so ever, but coming from me, you need to know that Carl means the world to them."

The old man placed his hand on my shoulder and lowered his head, taking a long and shaky breath. "If I can get those supplies, I can try."

I covered my mouth with my hand and nodded, aimlessly patting around for the chair and sitting down. From my seat, I could see Lori and Rick speaking in the other room, possibly about Rick's stubbornness or Lori's ever-so-eager idea on figuring another way to do the surgery. Neither seemed too keen on having a vet performing a life-threatening surgery on their little boy, but it's what had to be done.

And quick.

_l l_

"Pressure's droppin' again. We can't wait much longer." Hershel removed his stethoscope from his ear and settled it around his neck, looking up to Rick.

With Lori looking on behind, Rick pointed to his forearm stuck it out to Hershel, his tone a mix of sadness and anger. "Take some more - whatever you need. Then I'm gonna go."

"Go where?" Lori and I said simultaneously. She moved from her spot against the wall and closer to Rick, looking concerned. "They said-"

"They said five miles. And they should be long back by now. Somethin's gone wrong." From where I stood, I could see the look of pure fear and worry dawning on his face as his eyes bore into his wife's.

I was shocked. The Rick I knew would never leave his post. He was a strong man, usually, but never this way. "Rick, you can't just leave. Whoever went with Otis-"

"Are you insane? You're not going after them." Lori insisted.

Hershel joined in the discussion, adding in that he should listen to his wife. Rick would have none of it and continued on with his speech. "If they've gotten into trouble-"

"You're in no condition to do anything about it." Hershel was right. He had taken too much blood already and was insisting on taking more.

"Listen to him, Rick. You've probably taken too much blood, you're barely on your feet... hell, you wouldn't even make it off the farm." I got up from the edge of the bed and stood beside both the parents, looking between them as they never broke their gaze.

"If something happened to them," he started, but was soon interrupted by his wife. So much was happening at once; the blood transfusions, the massive headaches, the reunion, seeing Carl in this state, a worried family. It was all too much to handle. I couldn't stand much longer and narrowly missed the edge of the bed, collapsing to the floor. I had managed to do it silently somehow because Hershel was the only one who noticed me.

"Robyn, you need to lie down. I can't have you falling over the place in the condition you're in."

"Hershel, I'll be fine. I'll keep Rick and Lori company and, uh, you can go take a rest. You need it."

He looked between the four of us, observing our faces and rubbing a steady hand down his cheek. Hershel nodded and headed for the door, opening his mouth and then deciding against it seconds later. When he was gone, Rick took a seat in the wooden chair by Carl's left, Lori on the end of the bed on his right, and I by her side on the floor, back to the wall.

"He'll come through," I said, rubbing my cold hands together. "They'll be back soon. Otis is reliable like that." Lori nodded silently, Carl's hands resting in hers.

The silence in the room was evident. There was little to talk about due to the sour moment, but nonetheless was I sure we'd have much catching up to do. After all, we were dead to each other as far as we were all concerned an hour ago.

Rick was the first to speak. "Did you ever hear about the time Shane stole Kingsley's car?"

This story; one I had heard a million times before. Rick, Shane and I were all close friends throughout high school and I had been witness to many of his grand schemes we all spoke of today, or at least _did_.

"The Principal's car, right out of the teacher's lot in the middle of a school day. Shane steps out of lunch and makes a beeline to Kingsley's Hyundai, wires the ignition, peels out, drives down Dylan drive to that chicken farm out there." He made gestures with his hands, a straight line, a steering wheel, a few curves with his arms and a roof gesture. It was funny the way he flailed his arms about, one thing I certainly missed about the once lanky boy.

Rick pointed towards me, cocking his head in my direction. "You've heard this before, right?" Without waiting for my response, he continues. "So he pulls it into one of the big holding pens. Kingsley, he waxed that thing every month; had the auto shop vacuum it out every week. Shane, he parks it in this huge pen with a couple of hundred Rhode Island reds. He busts open bags of seed in the back seat, rolls down all the winda's, and then starts sprinting back to school."

"It's three miles away, easy." I added, smiling at the thought.

Rick, too, smiles and returns to his story telling. "He's back in time to finish his sandwich before the bell. And then the bell rings. Shane gets up and when he runs into Kingsley in the hallway, he looks out the winda' and says, 'Principal Kingsley, your coupe's gone.' Coupe, like chicken coop."

"Yeah, I get it." Lori said immediately, her eyes never leaving her sons motionless body.

"Of course you do. You've heard it a thousand times." I decided now was the time to leave the pair alone to their emotions. Last I had seen, Maggie was on her way outside for some fresh air and was probably still there. Without a word, I shuffled past Hershel and Patricia on their way into the room and out to the porch.

I found the eldest Green daughter out on a rocking chair, right where we had been the night before. I resumed my place on the siding of the porch, this time facing the door and Maggie and not the field. "It's been quite a day, huh?" I asked, tapping my fingers along my thigh.

"Sure has. Rick, he a friend of yours?"

"Has been for a while. I didn't even know he was, _ha_, I didn't even know he was alive until now."

That surely peaked Maggie's interest because she gathered her knees to her chest and frowned inquisitively. "What happened?"

"He was shot. Put in a coma. My friend, an old friend, _I'm sure he's dead now_, tried saving him from being shot during the hospital massacre. Lori told me he couldn't tell if his heart was beating or not, or if it was just the gunshot. But he couldn't bring him, not while he was on a monitor and all.."

Never had I thought I'd need to relieve the moment, even if it was only in story telling. It was a painful story to tell, mind you, and sounded a lot worse when I told it. "So... he left him? Just like that?"

"He _had_ to," I snapped, realizing how defensive I sounded and cleared my voice. I turned my tone down and rubbed my knees with both hands to keep myself warm. The sun had long since gone down and the weather was getting chilly at night. "But he managed to keep him safe long enough to escape. I don't know where he is, but I'm happy at least Rick survived."

Our conversation was cut short when the lights of a truck flashed up against the side of the house. Two men, around our age, popped out of an old Cherokee; one with a shot gun and the other with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Either men stopped by the steps and stood, contemplating the idea of ringing the doorbell. The man in the blanket looked rather impatient and insisted that they were "beyond this kind of thing now."

When they got to close to the door, Maggie rocked the chair a bit and spoke up. "Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?"

"Uh, hi. Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything," The first man, the one with the shot gun, said. He looked anxious, or flustered. Either way, his eyes were trained on Maggie like I've never seen before. "Nice to see you again, we, uh, met before briefly."

It seemed to me that the impatient man was sweating furiously in the chilly, night weather, rolling his eyes when he thought his friend was speaking too much. "Look, we came to help. There anything we can do?" He noticed Maggie eyeing the bite, just as I got up to join her side. "It's not a bite," he reassured us. "I cut myself pretty bad though."

I felt like it was my time to step in, let them no there were two girls to deal with. "We'll have it looked at. And we'll tell them you're here." I reached to open the door to the house but was soon cut off by shot gun guy.

"We have some painkillers and antibiotics." Gosh, he never shut up, did he? "I already gave him some. If Carl needs any."

"Come on inside," Maggie finally insisted, grabbing the door and swinging it open for the men to step in beneath her arm. "I'll make you something to eat."

I joined the others inside, sitting on a small storage bench between Carl's door and the dining room. The hard wood wasn't comfy, but the cushions made for a nice seat for the time being.

The others were conversing in the other room, speaking of decisions to be made and such when, minutes later, Rick and Lori stepped out to the porch. The night had surely been a big hoopla of reunions, information and other news no one could deal with. Carl being shot, Lori and Rick surviving, other group members soon to join the Green farm's clan. It was all overwhelming, and certainly tiring.

I took advantage of my whereabouts, took one of the seat cushions and propped it up along the arm rest and closed my eyes, hoping to wake up when this was all over.

_l l_

**AN: **For some reason my dashes (representing the separation from one moment to the other) aren't appearing in the story when I add them in, so for the time being _l l_ will have to do. If anyone knows whe this is happening, then pleaseeee tell me. Thank you xx oh, and hope you like this. Next chapter, it's happening! Hang in there.


	6. Chapter 6: Understood But Not Forgiven

**AN**: Quick tip, when I was writing the scene when Otis' truck returns to the farm I was listening to "The Walking Dead Soundtrack: Sunshine" and "Bottom Of The River" (helps if you add TWD at the end of the search. Glenn's face is the thumbnail) on iTube and got me in the mood to write so if that helps when reading it, then feel free to listen while reading. But that's completely up to you. Anyways, enjoy!

/_/

Chapter 6:** Understood But Not Forgiven**

I didn't wake up until late evening when I heard scuffling by the end of the storage bench. I had enough time to see Rick and Lori scrambling to their feet and into Carl's room. Hushed and elated voices came from the other side, assuming their son was awake. I had a really bad habit of passing out as of late.

"You had an accident. All right?" I heard Rick say as I groggily shuffled into the room to look over Lori's shoulder.

"It hurts, a lot." Oh, my God. He sounded so much different to the last time I had seen him. His voice was only slightly heavier and his adorable southern accent was almost as thick as his father's.

Lori was kneeled by his side with her hand sweeping back his sweaty locks of brown hair; he was a spitting image of his father at that age. "Oh baby, I know. I know." She cooed

Carl's shirtless torso was wet with sweat, but he didn't seem to care as he kept his eyes trained on his mother's eyes. "You should've seen it. The deer; It was so pretty, mom. It was so close. I've never been-" the little boy slowly stopped midway through his conversation, breathing erratic and head lolling to the side.

"Carl? What's happening?" Lori demanded. Rick look just as petrified as the four of us watched Carl hopelessly fall into a seizure. Naturally, she pounced to his aid, but Hershel nudged her back.

"Don't, it's a seizure. If you hold him down, you could hurt him." He said, pulling back his pillow and clearing the bed while Lori held onto Rick for dear life.

I stood in the corner, clenching the door frame. "You can't stop it?" I asked, frantically clinging to the headboard as it banged against the wall.

"He has to just go through it." Once we were sure the seizure had ceased, Hershel had immediately sprung into action, holding Carl by the chin and inspecting his eyes. "His brain isn't getting enough blood, his pressure is bottoming; He needs another transfusion."

Rick let go of his wife momentarily, sticking his arm out again as insistent as the first time. "Okay, I'm ready." He wanted to do another transfusion.

Hershel left Carl's side and looked into Rick's eyes, his black eyes serious. "If I take any more out of you, your body could shut down. You could go into a coma. Or cardiac arrest." We couldn't let Rick take anymore. It was life threatening and now was not the time to have two near-death situations happen in one night.

"You're wasting time!" He insisted. Rick took his seat in the chair beside his son and lay his forearm flat on the bed.

Carl was my godson, so family by law, and I'd be damned if I didn't do anything to help the last of those I truly cared for. "Take it from me." I whispered, speaking up as I retracted my white hands from the headboard. "What's his blood type, A positive?" I had taken a course a couple of years back, and thank God I had listened the day we were learning about blood transfusions in Science all those years ago because I would be at a total loss for words now. "I'm A negative, but I can still give it to him."

Lori shook her head, but then realized Rick was no longer deemed suitable to give anymore blood. So I shooed Rick off the chair and insisted Hershel take from me. When arguing that I was running low on my own blood and that this would only make me weaker, I fought back with the fact of having more blood than Rick had.

In the end, I was the one with the needle in my arm and Lori's comforting hand on my shoulder.

/_/

After the several transfusions, Hershel forcefully demanded I head up to my room with some orange juice. It wasn't a decision I could argue against because I soon began to feel light headed.

I shut the door to the room and sat on the bed overlooking the road where the Cherokee came in through. I sat like that for what seemed like hours. Desperately awaiting Otis' blue pick up truck to turn down and appear on the lawn, I thought I'd busy myself with a little rummaging of my bag. It had been a long time since I had taken a long look at what I stashed in the never ending pit I called my knapsack. The knapsack itself was boring, but the inside was not.

First thing I pulled out was the picture of Tyler and I, the one Maggie must've been talking about. It was taken two years ago when we took a trip to Quebec City in Canada during the winter. Terrible idea, seeing as we're not used to so many French people, crazy traffic and and endless supply of this dish called a poutine; French fries, cheese curds and gravy. It tasted a lot better then it sounded. We had our arms wrapped around one another in our bulky snow suits, almost drowning in the snowflakes.

Another item I pulled out was a group picture; my sister Melanie, my brother Caleb, my parents, myself, Rick, Shane, Lori and this boy we used to call Stinky Sal. Or Stins for short. The picture came out as a Polaroid, believe it or not. My dad had kept his damn camera all this time and decided to take an "instant snap" for me to take home, seeing as this had been the first summer back from being away at college and it was my last day before returning.

Lucky for me, the boys and Lori went to the local college, so they were here year round. In the picture, my parents sat on the bottom step. Next to them was Mel on Caleb's back with Stins posing beneath the two. To their right was Rick with one arm around Lori's waste and another around Shane's. And atop Shane's shoulders was me raising both arms in a victory pose.

God, we were so awkward back then. Or at least I was, hanging around older kids. Even then, they weren't that much older; only a school year older than myself. I set the picture aside on the desk next to the bed and continued.

There was too much to rummage through so I pulled one last thing out and zipped my bag shut. Between my fingers dangled a silver necklace with my name on a charm. It had been a birthday present but for some reason I never wore it. In any case, it was tangled beyond repair and would take a mighty long time to fix.

Mid-way through the process I noticed a set of headlights growing larger in the distance. Without a moments thought, I bolted down the stairs and stuck my head out the door to see Otis' blue truck coming down the drive. Relieved, I called out to Hershel.

"Hershel. Hershel!" The white-haired man appeared behind me, followed by Rick and Lori and rushed down the steps. I stayed back as they and Maggie all flocked towards them. But the man who stepped out wasn't Otis. It was someone much thinner with a stocky build and curly black hair. He almost reminded me of...

"Carl?" I heard the mystery man ask. It was still too dark from where I was, despite the lights, to tell who he could've been. Rick was shielding his man's face with his body anyways.

"There's still a chance." Rick responded. When Hershel questioned him about Otis, the man shook his head. Hershel looked frightened, yet anxious to perform the surgery at the same time and demanded we say nothing to Patricia until after. He and Maggie headed inside with Lori on their heels, tugging the bags and other supplies onto their backs and into the house.

Rick, however, stayed behind, questioning the man I supposed was apart of his group. They spoke frantically, Rick leaning in to hear more and embracing the man.

"They kept blocking us at every turn. We had nothing left. We were down to 10 rounds. Then he said.. he said he'd cover me and that I should keep _going_. So that's what I did, I just- I kept going. But I I looked back and he- _I tried_." He took a large, shaky breath between each sentence, jabbing his finger into the air as he explained the story with all the pent up rage he could muster.

"He wanted to make it right." Rick responded, sticking a hand out to squeeze his shoulder.

I figured it had been long enough and took the time to step down from the porch and introduce myself to the stranger. I could feel my heart beating wildly against my chest and eyes darting in and out of focus. No, not this again. I wasn't ready. This couldn't be happening again! Why was it that every time I got excited, this happened?

"Who is it, Rick?" I called out, gripping the banister to keep myself from toppling over.

The men went silent for a second and I swear I heard Rick say ."Shit, I forgot." Forgot _what_? Mystery man said exactly what I was thinking as Rick stepped away from in front of his friend, revealing who he was.

"Shane, you remember-"

"Robyn. Oh, my _God_." He said breathlessly, his eyes wide with surprise. I felt as if, for those very few seconds, the world had stopped and no one was rising from the dead or killing harmless people for food. Neither of us moved. We stood firmly in our places and never took our eyes off of each other. "You're-"

"Alive?" I confirmed, cutting him off. My tone was ice cold and my heart felt like a stone as I spoke. Rick stood between us, looking back and forth in confusion at the tone of our voice; so nonchalant, but a scarily relaxed nonchalant. "Yeah, I'm here - still alive n' shit."

Shane side-stepped Rick and hobbled to my side, wrapping his sweaty arms around my torso and buried his face into the crook of my neck. "The night of the bombin', I tried callin'. But I got nothin' and when I tried reachin' your ma-"

"I get it," I whispered, my body remaining flaccid against his. "It's... fine."

Shane seemed to sigh sadly into my neck at the lack of reciprocation. As badly as I had wanted to wrap my limbs around his shaking body and bawl into tears, I couldn't find it in me to squeeze him just a little bit, or even smile, and it was _killing_ me. It seemed to be killing him as well.

He let me go and held me at arm's length, inspecting my cuts and bruises, searching my eyes for what seemed like an eternity before limping back to the hood of Otis' car. He did what he always did when he was frustrated and rubbed his thick hair back a few times, dropping his hands to his lap. I took a seat on the stairs, resting my elbows on my knees. My hands shook for some reason so I clasped them together and blew the warmest of air I could, resting my head against the railing of the porch.

Rick took a place beside me, knocking his knee with mine. "When I found 'em- Lori and Carl- God, Robyn, the first person he searched for was you. He asked and asked but... what I'm saying is he was heartbroken."

"Yeah, well that makes two of us." Choosing not to question it, he continued on.

"Glenn, my man inside, found me in Atlanta- brought me back to his group back at this quarry where Shane, Lori and Carl were." My friend wrapped his hands around my own and patted them, trying in earnest to get them warm.

"He saw me hop out from behind the door of a truck and run to my family. And from the corner of my eye, I could see him scanning the crowd of the group," He lowered his gaze to rest on a worn-down Shane sitting by his lonesome by the tires, massaging his right leg. "Almost as if by some chance, some _miracle_, you'd be coming out behind me."

"But I wasn't. Rick, I really did try gettin' to King County. But I barely made it past Macon before it happened." It seemed as though all the rubbing and desperate warming-up couldn't keep me from shaking, possibly from the cold or from exhilaration. But as I explained, I could feel the entire world pouring down on my shoulders as I followed Rick's gaze out to Shane.

I hadn't wanted our reunion to end such a way, but with what had happened... I couldn't forget. Not even in this new world.

"You're still his Lil' Bird, Ro-"

"Rick, you don't _know_ what happened." I said, my tone lowering to a harsh whisper.

"Dammit, Robyn, maybe I don't. But I sure as hell know there ain't no sunshine and rainbows happening between y'all anytime soon." Rick shifted from his seat to face me, dropping his hands to his lap. "You can't hold this apparent grudge forever. I noticed it before you left the last time I saw you and I noticed it now.

"It's up to one of you to fix it, because you don't want no enemies these days. 'specially not now."

/_/

**AN**: I finally finished! Goodness, that took longer than expected. Anyways, I didn't know wether I wanted it to be a happy or sad reunion (because of the back story y'all don't know about just yet) so I went with my gut and tada! All I can say from here is remember the conversation Shane and Rick had in the sheriff's car in Ep1xS1. Just... keep that in mind for now.

Hope this satisfied your Shane dosage.

Oh, and a gigantic thank you to my friend and lovely editor, bernthalogy, on Instagram. She posts Daryl and Shane stuff so I suggest you follow her. ?

One last thing, I've decided to change the end of Season 2 up a little bit. It's a last minute decision, but I hope you enjoy it.


	7. Chapter 7: No Words

**AN**: Wow, this took longer than expected. But yeah, here's the next chapter! It kinda sucks, not gonna lie, but Shane/Robyn is starting to develop and Daryl/Robyn will hopefully be introduced in the next two chapters. Hope you like it.

/_\

Chapter 7: **No Words**

I spent the rest of the night, or in this case early morning, with my head nuzzled against the hard railings of the stairs. The sound of the crickets and grasshoppers were enough to set me into a full daze whilst we awaited Patricia and Hershel to finish the surgery on Carl.

It had been a tough night, to be honest. The man with the mangled arm, who I had recently found out was named T-Dog, soon became acquainted with Maggie's rocking chair and bundled himself up with a blanket. Lori and Rick sat side by side, connected by the hip, holding hands and warming each other up. Shane was still sitting down by the the tires of Otis' pick-up and toying with his pistol; reassembling the damn thing over and over again.

I had gone upstairs to my room and brought down a sweater and the necklace I had been trying to untangle earlier. It was the only thing to keep me from falling asleep again and from sitting in an awkward silence. Every time I found myself getting bored, I would look up to see Shane looking right back at me and look away almost immediately, as if we were secretly trying to check up on each other. It worked for maybe two minutes before I turned away as I saw him try to mouth something.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed before I noticed Lori starting to get nervous. The poor thing was tapping her heel against the wooden staircase and toying with a loose thread from her t-shirt. Rick on the other hand sat perfectly still, staring deep into the grass, possibly in a daze as well.

"What if something's gone wrong in there?" Lori asked in a hushed tone, her knuckles turning white as she clenched onto her husbands hand.

"Someone would've told us by now. He's in good hands, Lor."

"He is," I said, pushing aside the low whispers and speaking confidently. "He might be a vet, but he's a damn good surgeon." This time I pushed back my hair and pointed to a scar just above my ear. It still felt weird to touch, but I was happy Hershel knew what he was doing.

Just as I had closed my mouth, Hershel came out, rubbing his hands with a white cloth followed by Maggie and Rick's other man. Everyone, including Shane, stood up and gathered somewhat closer to hear the news.

"He seems to have stabilized." Hershel said, looking solely between Rick and Lori.

I wanted to jump with glee, but their expression seemed to be all I needed for my dose of pure joy. Lori looked absolutely ecstatic whereas Rick looked like he was ready to pass out and stumble to the floor; they were clearly in as much disbelief as I was in.

Without another word, Rick stepped up and clasped a hand on the back of Hershel's neck, bringing him into an embrace.

Lori brought her hands to her mouth and then dropped them, too happy to keep herself still. "I don't have words."

"I don't either. Wish I did." Hershel's voice was as monotone as if could get, and as happy as everyone else was, there was still one thing left to do. "How do I tell Patricia about Otis?"

There was a moment of silence before Rick came up with a somewhat decent solution. Turning to Lori, he said "You go to Carl. I'll go with Hershel."

I couldn't possibly let them go in there alone. Sure, two men could handle one emotionally damaged lady, but hopefully my presence would make it a little better if anything.

"I'll come too," I said, stuffing the necklace into my back pocket. "She'll need a female in the room, just, uh, just in case."

The two men nodded and headed inside, first Hershel, then Rick followed after me, Maggie and Rick's man had entered. The three of us made a bee-line for Patricia who seemed to be chopping away at some vegetables.

"Oh, Rick, I was just preparing some food for your son for when he wakes up. He'll be needing all the energy he can-"

"Patricia," Rick said, looking between Hershel and I before clearing his throat in an unsettling cough. "I appreciate it, I really do. But we need to speak to you about Otis."

"What has the man done now?" She asked, setting aside a few tomatoes and working on a handful of baby carrots. "I swear, every time he goes out, he comes back with a bruise or a sprain... where is he? I'll get him cleaned up."

The silent pause seemed to last for the longest time I could imagine, but in reality was only a few seconds. Patricia was looking desperately between the three of us until Hershel spoke up.

With his hand outstretched to take Patricia's, I could already begin to see her bottom lip wobbling. "Otis didn't make it back. He sacrificed himself to save Carl's life."

Before we could pull out a seat for her to sit, Patricia had dropped the knife just as her knees buckled. Rick and Hershel quickly sprung to her aid, catching her before she could fall while I pulled out a chair for herself and I.

"He tried_ so hard_," I whispered. "He saved someone's life in the process." But that didn't seem to bode well with Patricia as she continued the heartbreaking sniffling and gasping for breath.

The poor woman heaved out her sobs, taking the hand I had offered to her. The other two, without a word, knew just what to do. Hershel grabbed her a glass of water and Rick rubbed her back soothingly. It wasn't enough to calm her down because as the porch door opened, she saw someone pop through instead of her husband and let out another rack of tears.

Rick looked up to make eye contact with whoever it was, his rubbing automatically ceasing. Patricia had both hands clasped around mine so there was no way for me to rub her back.

"Rick, can you-" I looked up to see what Rick was doing, and noticed he was staring at Shane, who was staring at a mourning Patricia and an exhausted Rick. His eyes finally settled on mine for a few seconds before turning away and moving to Carl's temporary room.

Hershel had seen enough for the night and declared he would take Patricia up to her room. "Rick, I'll be needing your help."

As cold hearted as I could be on occasion, I couldn't bare to see Patricia in the state she was in. I learned from Maggie the other day that he had been tending to the farm a while back, and new her since she was a baby. Patricia and Otis fell in love almost immediately when she became one of the farmhands no long after Maggie was born.

I was once again left alone to my thoughts in the dimly lit kitchen until a rather depleted looking Maggie walked through, a pile of clothes in her arms.

"Who's that for?" I asked, gesturing to the clothes with my finger.

Maggie looked down and patted the top, smoothing out the wrinkles. "For Shane- they were Otis's; thought he'd want some fresh clothes." The subject of Otis itself seemed to be killing her inside and I was almost too afraid to comfort her. "Will you bring them to him?"

"Sure, why?" I wanted to tell Maggie I wasn't comfortable talking to him at the moment but for now, I could suck it up.

"I can't bare to look at him without thinkin' that he was the last one Otis ever talked to. It-it hurts."

I nodded slowly, hoping she understood I knew what she meant. Without another word, stood up and took the clothes from Maggie, my free hand moving around to her neck to hold her for a second. She didn't look at me as she pulled away, but walked off with a few sniffles and shakes.

I walked through the kitchen and towards the archway that lead out of the dining room in hopes of finding Shane. I knew he was probably still in Carl's room, perhaps speaking with Lori and didn't want to bother them, so I sat on the bottom steps of the staircase.

Large thunk-like noises came from the room beside me, which was Carl's room. Maybe it was Lori, who I needed to speak to, but to my dismay, it was Shane looking as forlorn as he had before. He kept his head down as I stood up and unknowingly bumped straight into me, nearly knocking me over.

Shane's head jerked up instantly, his brow furrowed in the most weird way. "Ah, shit. I'm sorry, I didn't see you.

"Bathroom's upstairs," I said without a moment's hesitation, shoving the clothes into his arms. I wasn't in the mood to engage with him in small talk at the moment. Or for any moment at this point. "Brought you some clean clothes."

"Right, thank you." he whispered, awkwardly trying to keep the clothes from spilling out from his arms.

I crossed my arms over my beating chest and jerked my head towards the clothes. "They won't fit well; Maggie told me they were Otis's." And with that, I had said all I needed to and turned to walk up the stairs to my room.

Only two steps up, I felt Shane's large hands encircle my forearm, twisting me around to face him. "We need to _talk_, Robyn. Y'cant keep ignorin' me."

I had the right not to respond, and as my anger grew bigger for Shane, I chose to ignore _that _particular statement and head to bed. "I'm going to sleep. G'night."

/_\

**AN**: How'd you like this? It's kinda short, but it took a lot of time because I had to Rewatch the episode where this happened and get the dialogue correct, as well as the actions all the while keeping in mind Robyn has to be included. I promise you will soon find out why Robyn seems to be so angry towards Shane soon. It's a messy concept (also the way I'm putting this is confusing) but when you find out, you'll kinda get it.

Anyways, I kinda update the progress of the story on my tumblr (**imaginationmisfit**) and post the chapter updates as well so if you could follow my blog or just reblog my chapter updates, that would be fan-tiddily-tastic! I definitely follow back, I can guarantee you that. Xx


	8. Chapter 8: The Memorial

**AN: **Hola people. So Chapter 8 is finally up! I cut it a little shorter than intended but I do plan on starting of Chapter 9 in Cherokee Rose when the whole group is back together and starting their search for Sophia. Xx

Chapter 8: **The Memorial**

The entire Greene farm residents, Rick and the part of his group that was here already were up just after dawn. Possibly an hour after I woke up.

Sleeping was just not happening for me. I would wake up during the night, several times in fact, and find myself flailing about with my covers tangled between my limbs. The room was close to pitch black the very last time I had woken up such a way, with the exception of the sun peaking between the trees in the distance.

Had it not been for the agonizing hallucinations of Otis's screams in my dreams, I would have been able to sleep perfectly fine. But the thought of his kind nature and bone-crushing hugs made me feel a type of sentimental I wasn't used to feeling. I didn't know him well, but I knew him enough in the past few days to know he needed a proper memorial for his sacrifices.

/_\

I could hear the residents bustling about in the house, some turning the shower on, others gathering dishes and the others chattering away. It wasn't long after did I hear the front door swing open and shut gently. Deciding not to take my eyes away from gathering rocks into the wheelbarrow a few feet away, I kept to myself, pretending I didn't hear anything.

The footsteps got closer, and curiously was truly a bitch, causing me to turn around to see a clean shaven Shane. And when I mean clean-shaven, I mean the only facial hair on his face was his eyebrows.

"Your hair..." I said, pointing to the stubbled head.

"What're you doin' up so early?" Shane was wearing a ridiculously big set of overalls with Otis's checkered shirt beneath it. The moment was to solemn to really think of it in a humorous way, so I kept straight-faced and rolled my shoulders back.

"Gatherin' rocks for Otis's shrine."

There was an awkward silence; Shane stared at the pile of rocks uneasily while I looked on, questioning the look on his face. Seconds later he cracked his fingers, receiving a disgusted look from me, and started gathering rocks himself.

"How'd it, uh, happen?" He asked, making no eye contact what so ever. "After the outbreak, I mean."

I often had dreams, or déjà-vu's of the night we escaped. We managed to leave before it got ugly and Valdosta was infected entirely, but we only delayed the inevitable.

"I was with Mel and Tyler. We were on our way to King County to get our parents. It was a long shot, drivin' 'cross Georgia, but we had to. We didn't get far, though. Got stopped by a herd in Macon.

"'ccording to a group we joined, most of 'em came from Atlanta."

"Yeah, I know. We had a lil' group not far from there. That's where Glenn found Rick." I could only imagine what if was like after. The trio was reunited, Shane, Lori and Rick I mean, all the while I'm trying to make nice-nice with a group of people I was only starting to tolerate.

There was a time or two when I had gone to Atlanta on a supply run with this girl called Sasha. I was usually the look out, mainly because I was a good shot, but also because I wanted to scope all the Walkers from a distance, just in case one happened to be someone I knew and I could put them out of their misery.

Part of me wanted to find Shane in amongst the Walkers, just so I could have some closure. But to no avail, he was nowhere to be seen. It would be impossible to go through each one, but maybe he would stand out.

"Why'd you bring Dickface along with you?" Shane whispered. His inquiring voice sounded like he couldn't possibly believe I chose to take him with me.

I snapped back, clearly not having any of his bad attitude towards my other half. "Because he's my boyfriend, you idiot. Was. _Was_ my boyfriend."

"Whaddya mean, was? Did he-?"

"I dunno, Shane." I shot. His face was emotionless, despite the furrowing of his eyebrows. "He left me alone to defend someone from our group who was bit. If he's dead or alive...I _don't_ know n' I _don't_ care."

Shane scoffed under his breath, boiling my blood to no end. "_He left you, he's a Dickface._"

Dropping the rocks I held in my arms, I stomped to Shane's side and pushed him with all my might up against one of the nearby trees. "Listen here, buddy. You don't get to come back into my life to come and call him a Dickface after-"

"But he _left_ you, Lil' Bird. Practically for dead!"

"Seems like you two would have a lot in common." My hands dropped to my side staring deep into his brown eyes with my own sad ones.

Shane dipped his head closer to mine, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "You think I wanted to? It wasn't my choice."

That definitely wasn't the first time I had heard that. Maybe the twentieth, and it got old. Nor did I believe it with every time I heard it.

"You sound just like my damn father." Our little 'talk' was interrupted when Beth, Glenn, T-Dog, Maggie and Jimmy emerged from the house and to where Shane and I stood, now putting distance between ourselves.

Glenn was the first to speak, trying to engage the two groups in a conversation. "What're the rocks for?"

"Otis. We're making a little memorial pile for him." My proposal seemed to gain a smile from Beth and a weak nod of approval from a still deeply saddened Maggie.

"He would love that," she said quietly, bowing her head.

It took only five minutes to gather two wheelbarrows full of rocks before a sudden rumbling could be heard in the distance. The group stopped their work to observe the noise as it got louder.

It was only earlier that morning did Rick give me the run down on what to expect from his crew. I had only slept four hours and was suddenly curious about Carl. With my intent on checking up on my godson I found Rick next to him. I suppose he couldn't sleep either.

We spoke about the journey they had been on; the coma, Atlanta, the group, Fort Bennings, the CDC, losing a little girl... we managed to retell enough stories that we could recite them to others as if we had lived those moments ourselves. It was only when Lori came down did I leave to search for Otis's memorial rocks.

Up the drive came three vehicles: a motorcycle, a car and an RV. I guess that was the rest of Rick's friends; an unlikely group.

T-Dog alerted the others, disappearing and reappearing into the farm house to retrieve Rick, Lori and Patricia. Two women and a very country-type man removed themselves from their vehicles, joining in the group to make a circle of strangers.

One older looking man with gigantic nostrils and a get up suit for a cruise hoped out from the drivers seat of the RV, meeting up with Rick on the lawn.

"How is he?" He asked. I took note of the hat and patterned shirt, assuming this man was Dale.

"He'll pull through," Lori responded, sheer happiness evident on her face. "Thanks to Hershel and his people. This is when Hershel emerged from the house with a stethoscope draped across his neck.

"Yeah, and Shane." Rick added. "We'd have lost Carl if it weren't for him."

Dale huffed out a sign of relief, immediately opening his arms to embrace Rick.

A woman with shorter hair, much shorter, took it upon herself to do the same to Lori. "Oh, my God. We were so worried."

"How'd it happen?" Dale inquired, to which Rick responded by retelling the story and claiming it was a stupid accident.

Everyone remained quiet until Glenn, yet again, stepped up, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and broke the silence. "So, guys, this is the man who saved Carl's life. His name's Henry-"

"_Hershel_. Hershel Green." Glenn went back to his place, cheeks red with embarrassment as Hershel introduced the residents one by one. Everyone but me.

"Who's she?" The man by the motorcycle piped up. His infuriating stupor was less than inviting which made me guess this was Dale. Or Daryl. Or maybe Darren?"

"That's Robyn," Rick announced, beckoning me to his side. "Lori, Shane n' I knew her way before the outbreak. And by some miracle she was here, ain't that right, Shane?"

All eyes turned to face a dazed Shane who was staring off into the distance until he snapped to attention at the mention of his name. "Hm? Oh yeah. A miracle."

No one but Rick seemed to sense the tension between Shane and I as we both looked on into each other's eyes. The sentiments were a mix between anger and sadness. And a little bit of longing. But most of all, confusion.

"If this big a miracle can occur so close to our hearts, then I'm sure God's got another little miracle for Sophia." Both groups went silent immediately. Assuming Rick had informed Hershel on their search, I took a deep breath and let forth my opinion.

"Hershel, it'll be easier to find her if we help. Or I help. It'll cut their work in half and-"

I could tell Hershel wasn't a fan of the suggestion just by the look on his face. He pulled me to the side along with Maggie and Patricia, huddling us closer together.

"I don't want them getting too comfortable here. They can pitch tent up by the trees but only until the boy is well." Hershel was only their pit stop; part of me wanted them to stay but part of me wanted them gone all the same.

"I get where you're coming from, I want them gone just as much as you. I've had my closure, the last of my friends are alive and that's all I need to know," I looked back to see the ever so suspicious motorcyclist eyeing our little group intently. "But if I help, or we help, they'll be gone quicker. The more people, the better. Right?"

/_\

Dusk was approaching faster than expected. Rick and his group unloaded their belongings amongst the trees we had gathered the rocks from earlier and within minutes, they had settled their little camp ground. The trucks and other vehicles were placed surrounding the area with the exception of one placed closest to the dirt road.

Across the field from the house was another little set of trees where I stood, propped up against a tree whilst everyone flocked to my side. When everyone from both groups were here, including Hershel with his bible and walking stick, I stood in front of the wheelbarrow with my hands clasped together, looking around to observe everyone's face.

Only part of both groups knew who Otis was, or had seen him; Rick, Shane, myself, Maggie, Jimmy, Beth, Patricia and Hershel. As far as everyone else was concerned, he was just the guy who shot Carl.

"I wanna thank y'all for coming. I know you guys don't really know Otis, hell, neither did I up until a few days ago..." My mouth was just running off words, and suddenly I forgot where I was going with this. I stuttered and mumbled, staring behind me at the different sized rocks. I barely knew Otis, but he was such a kind man for the time being I knew him.

Maggie joined me by my side and held my hand in hers, clearly near to tears. "What Robyn is trying to say is he was a good man. A _great_ man. Had you known him, you would know he would want to be here to see Carl's recovery."

She stopped herself there, turning to face me to keep from allowing her tears to spill over the edge. This man had clearly been a big influence to her, and she'd never get to see him again. He risked himself for my godson and I'm sure she knew we were forever grateful.

One by one, everyone stepped up to place one rock on top of the ever growing mound of boulders I had pre-set up prior to the gathering. Hershel opened up his bible and half-heartedly balanced it on his hand and walking stick.

"Praise be to him for the gift of our brother Otis, for his span of years, for his abundance of character; Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more than ever, our most precious asset. We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived, in Grace." Everyone stood back in silence, taking in the pile of rocks. "Shane, will you speak for Otis?"

Shane looked up, almost hoping he wouldn't have to speak. He looked dumbfounded and sad, shaking his head and mumbling. "I'm not good at it. I'm sorry."

Patricia looked up from Maggie's embrace, bottom lip wobbling and a fresh stream of tears rolling down her face. "You were the last one with him. You shared his final moments. Please, I need to hear; I need to know his death had meaning."

He paused for a few seconds, taking a moment to gather himself together before he nodded, feeling bad that he had the choice of deceiving Patricia of her husbands last moments.

"We were about done, almost out of ammo; we were down to pistols by then. I was limping, It was bad, ankle all swollen up." Shane looked up from his hands to face Patricia, his eyes looking to other objects as he got further and further into his story. "_'We've got to save the boy,'_. See, that's what he said. He gave me his backpack, he shoved me ahead. _'Run,' _he said. He said,_ "I'll take the rear, I'll cover you';_ and when I looked back..."

Patricia's crying had ceased, she stood with her hand by her mouth, nodding understandably as Shane awkwardly limped towards the wheelbarrow and held it in his hands.

I took a rock myself and together we both placed our rocks on Otis's memorial together, jerking back when our hands barely brushed one another's.

"If not for Otis, I'd have never made it out alive. And that goes for Carl too. It was Otis; he saved us both.. If any death ever had meaning, it was his."

/_\

**AN**: Alright, so there wasn't much Daryl happening as I had promised but I wanted to cut it up to make it so we started off with Daryl, but still sticking with the story with Shane, y'know?

And to the anon who left a review on the last chapter, I know! And Shobyn is a great ship name. :)

Tell me what you think, what you like/hate and all that stuff. Xx


	9. Chapter 9: Arguments

**AN**_: _Heyo, lovely people. Before I start, I just wanna say I kind of cried when I saw I had six followers following my story. Sure, it might be six people to you, but to me that basically means "I really wanna know what happens next. Your story is intriguing." And I love it! So thank you to those six people, you really make my day.

I kinda added in a little Daryl part, but I know when the big Daryl part happens, don't worry. Right now I'm focusing on advancing the story between Robyn and Shane and wedging Daryl into the plot as best I can. If you want to follow along with the story (episode wise) from here on out I'll be mentioning the title so it'll be easier for y'all to know where the plot is in TWD world.

Chapter 9_:_ **Arguments**

After the memorial, Rick was insistent on us all being formally introduced to one another. It only took a few minutes before everyone felt awkward in the silence and went on to do other things, leaving Hershel, Rick, Daryl, Shane, Andrea and myself to huddle around one of the women's Cherokees.

"How long's the girl been lost?" inquired Hershel, standing beside Rick in his sheriffs uniform; I guess someone didn't get the 'we're in a zombie apocalypse' memo.

"This'll be day three," he answered, making room for Maggie as she rolled a map on the hood of the car.

"County survey map; shows terrains 'n elevations." She placed two stones on the paper to keep it down whilst everyone poured over it to observe.

"This is perfect," Rick said as he dragged his finger across the map. "Finally get this thing organized. We'll grid the whole area, start searching in teams."

"Not you, not today." Hershel was right, with the condition Rick was in, he'd never make it in this heat.

"Yeah, Rick. You gave three units of blood, you wouldn't be hikin' five miles in this heat before passin' out. I'll take your place." I offered, giving Rick a reassuring nod. He nor Hershel seemed alright with my suggestion because they stepped in a shot it down immediately.

"Same goes for you, Robyn. After what happened the night you got here and yesterday, you'll end up in a worse condition to Rick." Hershel patted my shoulder, smiling apologetically. "You're as much my concern as you are theirs. And your ankle, Shane... Push it now, you'll be laid up a month."

"Guess it's just me," Daryl huffed, leaning in closer to point out his trail for us. "Imma, uh, head back to the creek, work my way back from there."

Shane wasn't impressed with sitting on his ass and letting Daryl do all the work, and tried every way he could to physically be helpful throughout the day. "I could still be useful- drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back_."_

"Alright, tomorrow we start doing this right."

"That means we can't have our people out there with just knives. We need to gun train 'em." Shane pointed out.

Everyone had turned to Hershel, discreetly implying his people should be taught. "I'd prefer you not be carrying guns on my property. We've made it this far without turning it into an army camp."

"With all due respect," Shane interrupted. God damn, he always had something to add. "There might be a crowd of 'em walking in here one day, then what?"

I looked Shane dead on and shook my head. "Why can't you respect his wishes? This ain't your place to interject your opinions."

Rick cut us off before either of us could continue bickering. "We're guests here. This is your property, and we _will_ respect that." Without taking a second to reflect, he pulled his gun out and placed it atop the map.

One by one everyone followed, all hesitantly pulling out their guns, including myself. It caught me by surprise when Andrea and I pulled out identical looking Ladysmith's.

"Not you, too." Daryl grunted, shaking his head.

I shot him an instant, unsatisfied glare, picking up my gun and twisting it around. "What's wrong with my gun?"

"Y'all think you can rule the world with that shit. It ain't nothin' but a pussy pistol." Infuriated by his comment, I slammed my gun on the car and side-stepped Andrea (who didn't seem phased by any of this), making my way for Daryl.

Shane acted on impact and stopped me, standing between me and a smirking Daryl. "Glad this 'pussy pistol' ain't the only weapon I got. I got my mossberg that could destroy-"

"Hold up, she gets a gun in the house but we ain't allowed no weapons out in the open?" That definitively wiped the smirk off his face.

"We have it locked up," Hershel said calmly, looking to Rick to change the topic.

He gave Daryl a little glare and returned to the map, looking around the area. "First things first: we set up camp, find Sophia-"

"I hate to be the one to ask but I got too... What happens if we find her and she's bit? We should all be clear on how we handle that." No one answered Shane's curiosity, obviously waiting for someone to mention the right conclusion.

Finally, it was Rick who answered, not wanting to be the one to say it directly, either. "You do what has to be done."

"And her mother?" Maggie added. "What do you tell her?"

Andrea, for the love of God, finally uttered something. Though it was short, she finally contributed to the conversation. "The truth," she said matter-of-factly.

They went in to talk about the rifles and safety of their people, to which Hershel caved and allowed the shooting range to take place in the fields. He wasn't pleased, but it was what had to be done.

I had tuned it all out and walked away from the group, still feeling agitated towards Daryl for his comment and also to busy myself with some task to keep me from engaging in a conversation with anyone from Rick's group. Anything but that.

/_\

I had accompanied Hershel and Patricia inside to prepare some food for our temporary guests, but from my position I could see Rick and his stupid uniform. I couldn't help but make a comment on it.

"Yo, Sheriff Grimes," I hollered, stepping out onto the porch from behind the door. "Authority's not intact anymore, you can get rid of the costume."

Rick, amused by my tone towards his clothes, smirked and tipped his hat off his head, placing it on mine. "Neither is that god awful necklace." He gestured to the chain around my neck and flicked it- the same necklace I was try to untangle the night before. The pendant that hung off the chain was a small, studded robin with most of it's jewels missing.

"You're dissing your own gift, idiot." I swatted at the back of his head, only to be captured in a headlock. Even with everything that's going on, we still managed to act like the childish teenagers I left behind last time I lived in King County.

"Shane's the idiot. He chose it, I bought it. Obviously teenage girls will accept anything their crush gives them."

I stood still, mouth open in mock-hurt. "I did _not_ like Shane. I-"

"But you _did_." Given no time to retaliate, Hershel stepped out to join us on the lawn, overlooking everyone setting up their tents.

On his shoulders were two canteens and a few other weird items, probably for Maggie and Glenn's run to town. I could tell what he came down to tell us, having been warned a little earlier in the kitchen.

"I don't say this easily, we don't normally take in strangers. I can't have your people thinking this is permanent. When you find this girl and your boy's fit for travels, I expect you move on. We need to make that clear." He left it at that, not allowing Rick to get in a word or try to change his mind. Hershel had told me he was set on that, and only because I was one person did he accept my permanent presence.

"I should tell Shane," he murmured, kicking at the dirt with the heel of his boot.

"No, I'll do it." I don't know what came over me, offer in to personally deliver the news to him. But there was no taking my words back now. Plus, Rick needed to tend to his son and group and not worry about his second in command.

"You sure?" Why didn't he believe I could do it? Maybe I didn't believe in myself enough to have a real conversation with Shane without blowing up in his face. "I don't-"

"I'll do it, Rick. It'll take two seconds."

What was supposed to be two seconds felt like thirty minutes. The walk to the picnic table where he and Andrea bonded over disabling guns was unnecessarily nerve-racking and I hated it.

I approached the table slowly, suddenly getting waves of our small conversation last night. The look on his face when he walked away killed me, but I couldn't... I wouldn't...

"Shane would you mind if I-"

Andrea practically flung herself from the table, tapping Shane's hand quickly. "Shane! Shane! Maggie and Glenn are following Dale and T-Dog back to the wells. I think there might be something wrong." Why would you feel the inclination to assume your help is needed in this process?

For some stupid reason I felt a pang of jealousy when Andrea's hideously dry hand rubbed Shane's calloused ones. I didn't really care, but my mind and stomach told me otherwise.

"Uh, you go on ahead. Imma meet you there in a sec." Surprisingly, he seemed more interested in what I had to say rather than Andrea and the exciting well that apparently needs her help. Though she agreed and walked off, she didn't depart before giving me a good, hard glare. Bitch.

"What's up?" Shane asked nonchalantly, pushing the gun remnants to the side. He didn't seem phased by my sudden change of heart to engage in conversation with him all of a sudden.

I slowly plopped myself down onto the seat across from him at the table, drumming my fingers against the table cloth. "It's about Hershel. He doesn't want y'all thinking this is permanent."

"Whaddya mean, he wants us gone?"

"Not right now. You can stay until you've found Sophia and Carl's better, his words."

"I ain't sayin' I wanna go, but if we do, you'll have to hunker down in my tent 'cause-"

"Wait a second," I interrupted. Shane always jumped to conclusions and now he automatically assumed we were suddenly on good terms? "If I did go with you guys, which I won't, what makes you think I'll be sleeping with you? You can't be serious."

"For fuck's sake, Robyn. The world ended, let's let bygones be bygones. It ain't hard."

"I don't want to fuckin' fight every time we talk, Shane. But my God, you don't understand the concept of being hurt, do you?"

I had had enough of him playing the 'it happened, I apologized, forget it' card. He didn't comprehend the fact that I wasn't ready to forgive him after what he left me to go through. This time I got straight up in his face, but he didn't jerk away. "You don't get it, do you? You don't get to do what you did and expect me to bounce back into a friendship-type relationship so easily! You hurt me, Shane. You fucking left me."

"Okay! Jesus, I understand, but I didn't mean for it to happen! I didn't wanna leave, Lil' Bird." Of course, he never meant for it to happen. It was never his fault. What a joke.

"Then why did you?" I inquired, lowering my voice to a nonchalant tone.

It took a few seconds of exchanging glances before he answered, looking away as he did. "I can't answer that."

That was the one answer I always got time after time when I would demand the same question from him. I slammed my hands on the table and got up, stalking towards the house in a huff. I ignored Shane's pleas as he called my name over and over again. Instead, I just concentrated on furiously wiping unnecessary tears from my eyes.

If there was one thing my dad did well in his life, it was give advice._ If they make you cry, you set walls up around them. Never let them do it again._

_/_\_

**AN**_: _How was this? Was it alright, good, meh? Let me knowww!

Im starting school tomorrow (September 2nd- oh, God. I'm not ready to be a senior.) so that means ill probably be posting every two-three days. Is that alright?

You wanna know what is definitely alright? The fact that I'm going to comiccon on September 14th and I'm going to get to meet Norman (I KNOW) and I'm bringing a friend along as a birthday gift. I really wanna get a picture with him (which, if I will I'll post it up on Tumblr) and tell him about this fanfic. Who knows? Maybe Norman secretly reads fanfiction and will read this.

Anywho, goodnight, you lovely people. I hope for those of you going back to school or already in school that you stay motivated and positive because if you go to jail for slapping a teacher or doing other stuff you secretly want to do to others, you can't read any fanfic in prison.

xx stay fantastically stupendous.


	10. Chapter 10: Burning Heart

**AN**: I'm so, so sorry I didn't get this to you guys last weekend when I said I would. Or Monday, because apparently my doc manager never saved my story and I hadn't written my story in my notes so I had to rewrite it entirely. I really hope you guys like this though. A favourite/reblog would be great support, but if not, just reading this and giving it your honest review and opinions would be great! Thank you guys, I hope this satisfies your Daryl/Robyn/Shane needs for now! Xx

/_\

Chapter 10: **Burning Heart**

When I came back with the ready-made food for the group, I found no one in sight. Shane, Andrea, Glenn, T-Dog, Carol, Rick, Lori; all gone. There was a commotion going on by the well square out in the fields. One of the horses was out there as well while a few others hung in mid-air by what seemed like a rope.

I didn't bother jogging up to the spot when I saw the group fall to the ground and one person bashing the surface with all their might. I kind of didn't want to know mainly because I'd most likely hear about the dramatic event when they returned.

After placing the basket on the table, I returned inside and headed to my room. Along my way I passed Patricia's room; she had left her door slightly ajar, enough for me to nosily see through the crack.

Patricia was knelt at the foot of her bed with a picture of Otis propped up on a pillow beside her, head bent in a prayer. Through her muffled words I could hear sniffles and gosh did my heart ache for her. The poor woman was still grieving over the loss of her husband, and I could imagine the pain she felt every time she saw Shane.

I couldn't bear the sight much longer and locked myself in the confines of what I called my room. The majority of my things were strewn about the bed I had made beneath it. The photos, my clothes, the books. Of all things to accompany you on your journeys throughout the apocalypse and I chose books- the one thing you wouldn't need or think to bring to help you survive. But I did it anyways.

I spent the next while tidying and reflecting. I didn't bother to go downstairs when I heard the group come back from the little fiasco, nor did I budge when I heard Hershel's truck pull up into the driveway. Nothing could keep me from replaying the conversation with Shane in my head.

The past was creeping up on me and Shane's presence was only making it worse. I thought I had left what happened between us behind when everyone was rising from the dead and munching on fresh bones for dinner, but I was mistaken because all he wanted to do was bring it up. The night he left... he never gave me a proper reason. All I got was "I didn't want to do it," or "it wasn't my choice. I just had to go through with it." Always the same bullshit. Just thinking about it made me want to go back out and release the anger.

As much as I wanted to continue my lashing streak, I couldn't. A, I had no more energy in me to do so and B, I saw that he and Andrea, of course Andrea, had taken Carol back to the highway to see if Sophia had returned. Everything was in full swing and no one stopped for a second to breath until the sun went down.

Without realizing, I felt a hot stream of tears slowly trickling down the side of my face. They weren't tears of sadness nor anger, those had been shed long ago, but tears of pent up frustration and stress. All I wanted was to bar myself up in my room and be miserable while the world moved on below like a teenager. Only thing was that I couldn't while there were flesh-eating zombies roaming the Earth.

I turned on my side, facing the door and allowed the remaining tears to fall. I was positive it would make my eyes red and face blotchy, but maybe it would add a little bit of colour to my gray face.

/_\

It was past eight in the evening when I emerged from my room, all puffy-eyed and depleted. I was aware I had missed supper and hadn't eaten since early in the afternoon but I was in no mood to sit around a table and converse when all I could do was grunt.

Creeping down the stairs, I could hear a quaint conversation going on between Rick and Carl. I hadn't seen the little guy since the accident and practically never got a chance to properly say hello due to Rick, Lori and Hershel going in and out of the room like a busy kitchen. As far as he was concerned, I was forgotten to him. He didn't even know I was here.

Now was my chance while Rick and Lori joined each other in the adjoining room, but the sound of Carl's inaudible snores changed my mind. We'd have the chance to catch up when he was semi-recovered.

I stepped outside, having nothing better to do and found the group's campsite empty. Everyone had retired to their tent or Dale's RV, all except Daryl. He sat in a lawn chair with his crossbow leaning against his leg, supposedly cleaning his bolts.

"Y'know, Daryl, leaving your clean arrows on the ground kinda defeats the purpose of cleaning them, doesn't it?" I asked, taking a seat on the other side of the fire.

"Don't call me Daryl." he grunted whilst flicking another bolt to his pile. "And they ain't called arrows. They're bolts."

I kicked at the stones surrounding the fire pit, brows furrowed. I was only trying to make conversation despite the argument we had earlier that made me want to slap him upside the head. "Why can't I call you Daryl?"

"I don't know ya, n' I don't like ya. Call me Dixon or don't call me nothin'." Someone was a little grouchy.

We sat like that in silence for a while; he dirtying his clean bolts and I watching the sparks crackle. The night was getting chillier by the minute. Having realized I forgot my sweater inside, I shimmied closer to the fire and stuck my arms inside the sleeves.

Daryl seemed highly annoyed by my lack of effort to go inside and huffed, though his effort wasn't adamant when pertaining to his bows. He dropped his rag and bolt and reached behind his chair.

"Here," he said, balling up a blanket and throwing it my way.

He threw it over the fire and landed it directly in my lap. "Thanks," I flung the blanket out and wrapped it over my body. My eyes began to feel heavy, like the bags under my eyes were physically weighing down my eyelids along with them. Succumbing to the exhaustion, I shut my eyes and pulled the blanket closer to my face.

The heat on my face was nice, though it dried my eyes out every time I opened them, only to see Andrea, Dale and Carol in the R.V, Glenn reading a book in his open tent and Shane walking around his tent, rubbing the back of his head like a magic-8 ball.

Though my eyes were closed, my imagination was running wild, daydreaming about all the fire-related memories I was content with. I thought of what it was like sitting around the fire with my family when we went camping every other weekend in the summer. I thought of the night Rick and Lori brought home a newborn Carl from the hospital, and how Shane, myself and the small trio sat around the fire, all close to one another, and watching a new batch of snow flakes descend from the night sky.

I remember the night as if it were happening as we speak; Shane came dressed in a tacky Christmas sweater I helped him pick out and I recall making fun of him on the drive to the Grimes's house. I wasn't one to talk though, because I was wearing an equally hideous one with reindeer faces on the front of their butts on the back. When we arrived at their door, the first thing I noticed was not a stubble-ridden Rick (he always had to shave when there was a slight hint of facial hair) but the little green bundle he held in his arms.

_"He's... Oh my gosh. He's a little you!" Rick chuckled and stepped aside letting myself and a gawking Shane in. _

_"He's got your eyes, bud." Shane gently stuck his hand out so that his thumb could caress the little babies cheek. He smiled and lowered his voice to a whisper so that only I could hear. "Hope his shits don't smell like Rick's."_

_I swatted at the mans arm and giggled, eyes wide. "There's a child in the room!" Rick didn't seem to mind because his already red face was growing a deeper shade as he laughed and clapped his friend on the back. Just as we finished our round of laughters, followed by another few chuckles when Carl released a little fart, Lori emerged from the kitchen, phone in hand. Poor thing looked so tired yet relaxed all at the same time. I had heard there was no pushing involved but a rather lengthy C-Section to remove Carl from her womb._

_"Guys, I'm sorry, but I can't cook tonight. Are y'all okay with take-out?" No one seemed to mind except for Carl who started wriggling around and sucking on his dad's index finger. I think someone needed to be fed instantly. _

_We spent the rest of the night in front of the fire; eating, drinking, laughing. The baby, being only a week old, was already a heavy sleeper and was out like a light by his fourth round of milk. In the midst of it all with Lori asleep by her son in his park and her husband unconscious on the floor, I scooted closer to Shane, legs extended and head resting on his shoulder. He sat up a little more, wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me closer so that our bodies tangled together on the floor in a rather comfortable position. _

_"It's snowin'," he pointed out in a whisper. "It's so nice."_

_"Just like your sweater," I chuckled, shutting my eyes and curling myself up closer to his body. We were a foot or maybe two feet from the fire, close enough to smell the burning wood behind the metal grate._

The aroma from the fire place seemed all too real. Was I daydreaming? Fast asleep and dreaming? Actually there?

The faint smell of smoke and warm heat grew closer and closer- when I unfortunately snapped from my dream, remembering where I was, I assumed Daryl was cooking his catch of the day but it certainly didn't smell like it. Everything was calm until I heard his chair hit the ground, jolting me awake. The fire had grown larger and had spread to my blanket, emitting smoke from the fibres.

"Shit!" I yelled in a panicked tone, frozen in terror. Daryl was already by my side, throwing the blanket to the floor and stomping on it with his shoe.

I looked down, having felt a searing pain near my calf, and screamed. Oh, my God! The flames were now gathered around my lower left leg, climbing higher up the materials of my pants.

"Take 'em off!" Daryl yelled.

"I-I'm trying!" I yelled back. Daryl frantically looked around for any water whilst I desperately unbuttoned my pants. Everyone had gathered outside to see the commotion and also began to panic at the sight before them.

I fell to the floor, seething and screaming in agony, my pants feeling tight and the pain growing faster. Maggie, Lori, Rick and Hershel were all gathered around my lower half and helped me tug of the burning clothes from my numb legs. Just then, through the shouting and yelling of the frantic groups, Daryl appeared, pouring half a bucket over my ash laden pants and crouching by me with the rest.

I sat there in the middle of the circle of worried eyes (in my underwear, mind you), too blinded by pain to be embarrassed. I twisted and wriggled under the grasp of Rick and Maggie's hands as they held me down, watching Daryl tear any part of my pants that wasn't burnt and dipping it into the water, dabbing the damp cloth on my flesh. My already red cheeks were brandished with my tears as one wave of pain after another hit me.

"Give her some space!" I heard Hershel say as he motioned to the others to step back- Shane barged through the wall of people to get a better view, dropping right by my side despite the orders. "Daryl, you take Ro-"

"I'll do it," Shane said immediately. He looked as worried as I was, and for a second I wanted to tell him I was fine, even though I wasn't. He stooped down, his arms already beneath my thighs and back before he was stopped.

Through the orders, Daryl had given Maggie the cloth to wrap around my throbbing calf despite my pleas for them to stop. "Your ankle is in no shape to steady yourself with Robyn's weight."

Hershel gestured to Rick to back up as Daryl's arms took the place of Shane's and hoisted me up bridal style. Shane, Hershel and Maggie followed on our heels as I was brought up to my room, the tears of pain splattering onto Daryl's bicep. I was passed a shower towel to cover my underwear as Hershel inspected my leg, touching the burnt flesh gingerly while I hissed and seethed.

"You've got yourself a pretty nasty second degree burn," Maggie had run downstairs and came back with Hershel's medical bag and a bucket of water. "Any longer and you would've needed a skin graft."

Shane stood in the corner of the room, gnawing on the edge of his thumb whilst looking from me to my leg. "H-how long?" I asked through tears.

"To heal? Ten to twenty days. You'll be able to walk around within a few hours once the medication has set in." Hershel sighed. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and produced the rag from behind him, dabbing it on my sore calf.

"Fuck!" I howled, letting out a rack of sobs from the contact. My leg had become considerable swollen and it looked horrific until it was wrapped with sterile gauze bandages.

"It ain't gon' leave bad marks, right?" Daryl had been standing by my head, arms crossed as he made every effort not to look at the wound. You'd think a hard-ass redneck like himself could handle such a thing.

"Just a tiny one. We'll be able to tell in the mornin'."

Everyone was silent save Hershel who was rearranging my sheets so that my burn didn't come into contact with it during the night. Maggie reached into the bag and pulled out a container or Advil, popping the lid and holding out two pills for me to swallow. I hoped they worked sooner rather than later- the pain wasn't subsiding with the damp cloth and gauze around my leg, causing my to squirm.

Hershel headed for the door, followed by Maggie, leaving Shane, myself and Daryl. The two bode me a good night and said they'd check up on me every once in a while.

"Someone should stay with her," one of the men said after a while.

Daryl shook his leather jacket off and hung it on the desk, pulling out the chair and plopping down onto it. "You should head down. I ain't got nothin' better to do." Shane said nothing, giving me only a worried look and mouthing that he'd be back later. He didn't seem to want to go. It seemed like forever before he left, closing the door quietly on the way out.

With him gone, Daryl took the opportunity to prop his feet up on the bed and shimmy down into his seat, resting his head on the back of the chair and shutting his eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered after a moment of more silence. "You didn't have to-"

"Shush. I'm sleepin'." I wasn't entirely sure I wanted him staying in my room after the argument we had, but I was in no condition to get up and shove him out. "You'll be fine. It ain't lookin' too bad."

"My flesh has just been _burnt_. I'll be blistering in the morning."

"Still ain't bad compared to what I've seen."

His '_reassuring_' nod didn't calm my fears of being scarred, but once he fell asleep and his loud snores echoed throughout the room, I could feel my eyes growing dry from the fire and lack of sleep. There was never one day of rest; everyone was getting injured one way or another or everyone was arguing with one another. I hoped, for everyone's sake, that there were no accidents tomorrow.

/_\

**AN**: Ayo! So, how was this? Was is... decent? Good? Excellent? Not what you expected? I wrote this over a series of three-four maybe six days but I managed to get all my ideas in. God damn, Robyn can't go a day without something bad happening to her. First Tyler, then the walkers, then the stitches, Otis, her godson being shot, arguing with her (secretsecretsecret) a.k.a Shane, fighting with Daryl and now getting burnt? So many mixed emotions, gosh.

Quick question, what do you think happened between Shane and Robyn? I want your honest opinions. Feel free to leave your answers in the review box, message them to me on tumblr or DM on Twitter ( **tisbellatho**)

If any of you are interested in the burn situation/where I got my information, I got it from first-aid-burns/basics/art-20056649


	11. Chapter 11: Concerned

**AN: **Hellooo! So I told you this was going to be a different chapter, and so it is; a flashback! God, I seem so peppy, I'm sorry. I'm planning this surprise thing for my friend and I don't know if she's reading this so until then, I can't say until Sunday. This chapter is a little shorter, as will most flashback chapters be. I'm sorry that it's in the middle of a really weird time but it explains a lot and I feel like it'll make so much sense later on. Thank you to everyone has read, reviewed or liked the story on here or on Tumblr. It means the world to me. Xx enjoy

Chapter 11: **Concerned**

FLASHBACK_: Robyn- Age 18._

My father was a very assertive man. He would often feel the need to assert his anger around all of us, but mainly my mother. He wasn't a 'stand in the corner with your hands on your head' kind of guy, but more like the kind to use his belt on us until a certain age.

My neighbours were very familiar with his raised tone of voice. King County wasn't an "off the map" small town, but small nonetheless where everyone knew everyone and everyone was well aware of who did what and when. Very rarely would you hear him yelling at me or my siblings, seeing as it was always a lot more silent than that, more or less always my mother. No one did anything to prevent it for the fear of being hurt. And without fail, the neighbours always had a bruise to talk about on my mother's limbs at each block party King County could afford to have. We weren't poor, but it was difficult to have to speak to the assertive men like nothing was wrong to keep the peace.

During this particular block party, the summer I had graduated high school, my elderly neighbour couldn't help but make it obvious that my mother was sporting two new bruises on her forearm and calf. Why you ask? Because my mother had gone behind my father's back and spoke ill of him to Mrs. Grimes. Like I said, everyone knew everyone and everyone was well aware of who did what and when. Except for me somehow. My siblings and I were always out of the house when it happened, but we were never told why she received so many blows. So naturally, my father found out from Mr. Grimes and had taken his anger (and belt) out on her.

It wasn't long before I had headed over to the Grime's household to discuss this with someone who might know. Their son and close friend of mine, Rick, was bound to be home; it was his turn to throw a party for the neighbourhood kids while the adults had fun. For once I had hoped someone else would step up to the plate last minute because tonight, I needed to speak to him.

It wasn't his parents fault that this story had gotten out so quickly, but seeing as how close we were he wouldn't mind if I demanded all these questions.

"-and that's when he came running back and told Kingsley his coop was gone. Get it? Like a chicken coop!" The entire kitchen burst into a fit of laughter, some kids spurting their drinks from their mouths and the others clapping their hands together like retarded, silent seals. Rick Grimes, that bastard, was enjoying all the attention he was getting, though he got it quite easily. I sauntered up to him and tapped his shoulder, indicating with a crooked finger to follow me.

He held up his index finger, gesturing he had one last joke to tell.

I shook my head and smirked, "No, seriously, Rick. I need to talk to you." He didn't seem so enthusiastic to give up the spotlight for a few seconds and sighed.

"Five minutes," he begged "Five minutes, Robyn, and I'll be right there." Clearly, that would not do. My father would be wondering where I was and would soon be demanding to know my whereabouts.

I leaned in closer to the ass and whispered "It's about what happened to my mama, Rick. I need to know-"

A low-guttural cough cut me off just as I was getting Rick's attention. "I heard what happened to her. She 'lright?"

From the corner of my eye I noticed a tall, wide-shouldered man I recognized as Shane Walsh; long time friend of Rick and mine. The Grimes' and Walsh's were a tight nit group of friends along with my own parents, so it didn't surprise me when Shane mentioned he knew. Then again, it seemed like everyone did.

I gave up on Rick with a sigh, cocking my head towards the living room not far off from the kitchen to where Shane followed. Taking a place in the corner of the room, far from all the couples viciously sucking each other's faces, arms crossed over my chest, I turned to the older teen (technical college boy) and sighed rather loudly.

"So, you know what happened to my mama, I guess." It wasn't the most enthusiastic ice breaker of the night, I'll admit, but I was in no mood to put in any effort. No matter how good of a friend he was to me.

He nodded, placing a hand on the wall beside me to hold himself up. "Sure do. It ain't gotta do with the bruises, or maybe it does, but all I heard was that 'pparently Rick's ma got concerned about your mama and brought it up. Or maybe it was the way he was treat in' her and she wanted to be heard." Gosh, this boy and his southern accent.

What had she done to deserve all these weekly beatings? How had she gone out of line? "Shane, she didn't do nothin'! The walls in our house are paper thin and I hear everything they say... I-I just don't get it. I just-"

I stopped mid-sentence as Shane's hand came into contact with my face, his thumb brushing my cheek bone. "Hey, hey. Robbie, it's fine. I know she ain't done a thing. Your dad's actin' out, steppin' out o' line. You know that, you know how he is."

And the thing is, I did. My father was always one to overreact and I was clueless as to why he took it out on mama.

My groans of annoyance were muffled against the fabric of Shane's shirt as I buried my head into his chest. "Everyone knows. Everyone. Now I gotta go act like everything's fine."

It wasn't much of an attempt, but his large hand reached up to stroke the hair from my face, his breathing in tune with mine.

"I should probably go now. Daddy's gonna be wondering' where I've run off to. Maybe I'll hear more stories about the beatings and the reasons I'm constantly unaware of." My voice lacked enthusiasm, as did my will to go.

With questions for mama bouncing around my head, I took a step to move away from Shane, but was met with his rather muscular looking bicep in my face, blocking my exit.

He now had both arms on the wall on either side of me, leaning closer to my face. Shane didn't look pleased. "He ain't doin' none of that too you, is he?" He inquired. Now wasn't the time to question me. I had to question others. "If he is, I swear to God..."

"No," I lied. It wasn't a tremendous lie, but when we were disciplined, we were discipline. "Will you let me go? Please. I'll email you tonight." I placed both hands on his bicep, oh good lord, and pushed, but he forced and flexed and would not let me go.

"Robyn, I'm serious. I don't want no man hurting you. Even if he's your dad." I nodded and rubbed his arm reassuringly, gesturing with my fingers that I had to 'run along'. He chuckled unenthusiastically and nodded, gently shoving me to the kitchen. "Don't go hurting yourself, lil' bird." Gosh, lil' bird. The only nickname he could think of because my own name reminded him of a bird.

So off I went, patting Rick on the way out, heading back to my parents, smiling at everyone as I passed by like nothing had happened.

**AN: **How was it? Short, I know. But hopefully this will add to the understanding of where Robyn and Shane lie. I've got a background to everything thatll happen and I can't wait to write it! So yeah, tell me what you think, reblog, like, review, whatever. I just want to hear what you all dont understand or if there's something you want to see more of! Stay fan-friggin-tastic. Xx


	12. Chapter 12: Continuous Injuries

**AN**: Heyo. Sorry for the delay, but I was sick and then got even sicker and I had nooooo motivation to write. Oh, the secret I couldn't mention last chapter but could mention now is that I happened to meet Norman Reedus at comiccon! He is such a sweet guy I just... He gives amazing hugs. If ever you guys get the chance to meet him, do it.

Like Chapter 10 (or whichever one) I wrote this over a series of a few days so I hope you all like it. I hope you like this one. Xx

/_\

Chapter 12: **Continuous Injuries. **

The late morning sun shone through the embroidered curtains hanging above the window on a copper rod, landing directly on my face. I squinted my eyes to shield myself from the brightness and looked up, having forgotten about my burnt leg. The cloth seemed to have been changed, loose shorts somehow already on me instead of having been left in just my underwear, and my leg placed on a pillow that wasn't there when I had fallen asleep. I wondered how long I had been out for and turned to Daryl for the time.

As I crooked my neck to the side I noticed the chair was pushed back under the desk, the crossbow and jacket gone. From the corner of my eye, I saw the solar powered clock flashing the time. It was only eleven A.M, a little too late to be awake but nice nonetheless to get to sleep it.

I needed to get up, but that seemed to be a little more difficult to accomplish; the bandage rubbed against my irritated, raw flesh as I lifted my leg off the bed and onto the floor. With my right leg, my good leg, I pushed off the bed and stabled myself against the dresser next to my bed, my focus zooming in and out. Oh, god. Getting down the stairs was not going to be fine.

Taking the childish way down, I used all the strength in my left leg to keep my wound from touching anything, pushing all my weight onto my other leg to lower myself down to the top of the stairs. I held onto the banister and shuffled forwards; bum, leg, bum leg. Over and over again, repeating the movement until I got to the bottom of the stairs and crooked my knee inwards, hoping around the empty first floor and using the walls as my support.

"Hello?" I called out, poking my head through doorways. Hoping to the living room, I peaked around the corners or the window and saw Lori, Carol and the others by their camp. Just as I was about to hobble out, being the hardheaded little shit I was, I heard a little 'hello' back and stopped.

"Who's that?" I heard again. The sleepy voice was coming from the spare bedroom- Carl's room. Though my thigh was cramping up, I forced myself to hop like a bunny to the door frame and smiled at the sight before me; in front of me was a shirtless, little Carl, engulfed in the white sheets tucked around him. His hair was parted to the side, probably Lori's doing, and was squinting in my direction.

The biggest smile was plastered on my face and my heart stopped beating, cheeks soon hurting. It was impossible /not/ to smile during a situation like this. "Hiya, sweetie. Miss me?"

"Robyn!?" Carl's gravely voice exclaimed, eyes wide with anticipation and confusion. He struggled to get up and force his arms out, but I hobbled over quickly and sat on the other side of the bed next to him, bad leg extended.

We threw ourselves into each other's arms instantaneously, our injuries meaning very little to either of us. He nuzzled his face into my chest and started laughing, my own arms wrapped around him as tightly as I could. Relishing in the embrace, we sat there for a while until he finally pulled away.

"How did you get here?" He asked, pulling the covers up to cover his scar.

"A day or two before you guys did. Hershel, the man who took care of you, took me in as well. I woke up from a really big nap and all of a sudden your mom and dad... They were just there. Talking to Hershel 'bout your condition. It was scary."

Carl nodded, bowing his head. It took him two seconds to notice my leg and pointed to the bandaged calf not on the bed. "How badly did you hurt yourself? That should've healed days ago."

I shook my head and chuckled, seething in pain as I propped my leg onto a pillow and lay back against the headboard. I explained about the walker attack and Maggie saving my life, the scar, Otis, his dad, Lori, Shane, the group, so much sleeping and then my incident. "It hurts so much," I whispered, rubbing my knee.

He held my hand that lay on my knee, resting his head on my shoulder. "I'm glad you're back. Shane must've been so happy to see you," my breathing laboured while my thumb caressed Carl's small cracked knuckles. He didn't know, and I think for now, he didn't need to. He didn't need to worry about what /was/. Or what could have been.

"Yeah, he was happy.." I left it at that, not wanting to divulge into this any further. "Listen, I'll leave you to rest up a little more while I go check on the other's, alright?" I shimmied off the bed and turned around, propping myself up with my knee to lean over and kiss Carl's forehead. "Love you." I whispered awkwardly hobbling out of the room and disappearing out the door of the Greene's farm house.

It was difficult, I'll admit, to travel a two minute walk on one foot with nothing to support myself. Glenn, looking as bored as anyone, noticed me from a distance and sprinted to my side looking baffled.

"Robyn, you should be in bed. Hershel told me-"

"I'll be fine. It stings, but I need to be outside. I'm not doing anyone any harm." Glenn didn't argue and helped me to their campsite with the help of Lori and Carol who pulled out a seat for me near to the trio.

We talked about the burn and how much it hurt, and how ointment wasn't going to heal it any faster for fear of infections building up on the flesh. When Carol asked to see it, Glenn looked slightly disgusted; the sight wasn't pretty, so I couldn't blame him. But then again, was it worse than what we experience with walkers? The skin was all blotchy and had blistered over night- the flesh was raw and just the slightest bit of contact made me cringe in pain.

The men, Rick and Shane, returned looking rather uneasy and upset. Both men trudged forwards, Rick holding his gun out for Shane to take and Lori rushing to her husband's side. From a few feet away I could see Beth stalking towards us. Carol and Glenn went about their things as Shane made his way into the small circle of tents. It was only when he got closer did I realize I was right in front of his tent.

"You're up." He said plainly, disposing of the guns in a bag by the campfire and disappearing into the folds of his two man tent.

I nodded, though he couldn't see me, and pivoted around. "I am. I shouldn't be here but... here I am."

"Still as stubborn as a mule." He said, emerging from his tent with two water bottles. He tossed one to me and sat on the chair not too far from mine. "Couldn't stay away, I see."

I unscrewed the lid from the bottle and took a sip, leaning back in the rickety lawn chair. "Kinda hard when we're about five, maybe six feet away from each other."

"Even when you were ten miles, that was the case. Ain't never changin' your old ways." Shane cracked a small smile, one I feel like I haven't seen in ages. He removed his hat and rubbed the top of his crew cut twice, moving down to the back and rubbing his neck four more times.

"Neither has that," I said, jerking my finger to his head. He furrowed his eyebrows and gave me a questioning look, pointing to his head.

"This? I always do this. Ain't nothin' different 'bout me."

I snorted a sarcastic snort and shook my head, tapping my chest with my index fingers. "_I_ started that. I spent like, what, half the summer before college rubbing your head before you disappeared on me."

"Hey, now. I didn't disappear. I left for a certain amount of time and happened to miss having someone do that to me."

"It's an odd habit," I whispered to myself, staring down at my leg. I jerked my head up when I was whipped in the arm with his hat. "You fucker. That hurt!"

Shane let out a low guttural laugh and took a swig from his bottle, nearly choking on the water as he spat out. "That's not what you'd say when I had you be-"

"Shane!" Just then, Carol joined us in the little circle and came up to my side, crouching behind my chair to talk. Thank God she was here.

"Robyn, Lori and I were wondering.. since you're a lot closer to Hershel and his family, we were thinking maybe you could get it across to him and ask if he wouldn't mind us making supper for him." I really liked the idea. I don't know how Hershel would take such a surprise, but I'm sure it would be nice.

"He'd love that," Beth interjected, stepping out from behind one of the trees. "We can help; I'm sure Patricia would love a reason to get out of her room."

For some reason, we all turned to Shane who shrugged, waving his hand at us. "I ain't the one who's food you're cooking."

I nodded and pushed on the arms of the chair to get up, Shane and Carol helping me the rest of the way. Beth stepped in beside Shane and put my arm over her shoulder and soon the three of us, soon followed by Lori, were off to start in the kitchen. Beth couldn't stop yappering away about how pleased her dad would be, or how badly she had wanted to cook with everyone for a change. It was nice, she sighed, to have a reason to smile about something after Otis. I couldn't agree more.

After Beth, myself, Lori and Carol stepped into the house, Beth rushed upstairs to get Patricia and Carol got me settled at the little butcher's block in the kitchen with a stool. It took some coaxing, but within ten minutes, Beth came downstairs arm in arm with a depleted looking Patricia and led her to the kitchen, followed by Maggie who came in through the front door.

"Are y'all having a meeting I'm not aware of?" Maggie chuckled, removing her tattered cowboy hat and placing it on the counter.

"We'd like to cook for Hershel. Show him how grateful we are for fixing up Carl and putting us up, y'know?" Lori seemed pleased and looked to a glowing Carol.

Maggie turned to Beth who smiled, nodding enthusiastically. "We have a few recipe books under the sink. And with all of us, we'll be needing another table." She gave us a thumbs up and patted my shoulder, whispering her disapproval of me moving so much despite my injury before disappearing around the corner and into the basement.

Everyone was in full swing within half an hour; the kitchen was full of chopping and dicing and a whole lot of mixing. Surprisingly the girls all seemed to work together, our motions and steps in time with one another's. Patricia smiled, Carol spoke of her happiness towards seeing a potato peeler and Lori expressed her gratitude for not having to roast a squirrel over a fire again.

I remembered those times when my group and I would huddle over the fire and take turns turning our catch of the day over a barely burning fire. It was tough, but now we were cooking with actual food and not shivering to death. For that I'm sure we were all grateful to Hershel. Speaking of which, I saw him from the corner of my eye walk in a head towards Maggie. I looked up to see them speaking in hushed tones but from his expression, I could tell he wasn't pleased. Maggie gave an exasperated sigh and a reassuring look and left her dad standing in the middle of the dining room.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set. Dale, Glenn, Andrea, Shane, T-Dog and Rick were all standing guard outside or hanging around. No one came inside the house unless it was to see Carl or it was an emergency. And there was no reason to be inside because the days were hot as hell and believe it or not, inside the Greene's family farm was warmer than outside.

I kind of wanted to invite Andrea to join us inside but she was too busy with her Annie Oakley routine and was so sick of being one of the "women" of the group so I decided against it. There was also the fact that she was just a rather bitchy and snappy person who had a sense of superiority towards me. I didn't like her so she could stay outside.

She wasn't my most favourite person and sometimes, as terrible as this sounded, I wished the worst for her. Sometimes I wished I heard a gunshot ringing throughout the fields. Some might call it jealousy, but jealousy over what? Shane? Never. We might have had an inkling of a normal conversation earlier on but it was nothing. Nothing was going to or ever will happen between him and I. For all I cared, Shane and Andrea could make out in front of me and I wouldn't care. They could go on a romantic Walker killing spree and I wouldn't care. Let the gunshots ring in right now for all I care!

Just then, as if I had jinxed the moment, a rather loud gunshot came from beyond the house, causing me to drop the knife I had been chopping with to clatter to the floor. I jumped up, wincing in pain but was told to stay behind as everyone rushed out. What if it was Rick? Glenn? Shane? What if there was a herd of walkers and everyone was rushing towards them? I hobbled to the couch by the window and in the distance, saw a small group, assuming the men, dragging something between them- a limp body. My heart stopped. I had no clue who it was. But as the group dispersed from around the limp body and towards the house, I saw the figure become clearer. The figure was unrecognizable with all the blood they were doused in and that's when it hit me; Daryl.

/_\

**AN**: Gosh, something bad seems to happen each time. But hey, Shane and Robyn managed to talk normally without jumping down each other's throats. And thank goodness for Carol for saving Robyn from an embarrassing comment from Shane. He just wants things to be back to normal and so does Robyn, but Robyn wants to convince herself she can never forgive him. On another note, poor Daryl. I don't like thinking of his limp body because it's just heart wrenching.

Anywho, I'd love to know where you guys are finding this story because once I forgot to post the link up on Tumblr and there were maybe a dozen views. Woah! I honestly adore each and every one of you and I seriously mean it.

Stay fan-friggin-tastic. Xx


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